Dear warring mind, do stay your blade.
Too high a price, by your peace of mind is paid.
What to do? How to do? You plan and scheme and ploy.
A sea of thoughts will only drown, where action will be your buoy.
I know the handicap, the vicious lay of these lands.
Immortal burdens sat diligently on dying hands.
But when the storm rages and its fangs laid bare,
seek the calm in its eye, and you rest yours there.

To you dear scarred mind, know this,
the sun was made for you.
For when you can’t look on the bright side,
the bright side burns for you.
The chaotic quill of living signed you a scar,
wounds that know no touch.
While time leans forward to fix your mar,
self care would too, mean much.
Tend, exert, appreciate, bask in your self-worth.
Clad in what’s loved, miles from the dark,
and watch a true smile seep forth.

And to my dearest depressed, life goes on till date.
You aren’t not needed, life is just too proud to state;
How your electric highs and hopeful lows gave it a lustre
what brimmed death with a rainbow of jealousies.
The effervescent days and enchanting nights,
spent experiencing your bold ideas and fabulous fantasies.
How your lucid living pittered to its patters.
Hushed by life’s hubris, snuffed out by its batters,
laid silently a stifled memo, that “it all matters”.
My dearest depressed, do feel a touch less blue.
For life goes on today, but never moved on from you.



Photo by Teddy tavan from Pexels