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The Heart's Tale

by Siddh Dutta
(Kolkata, India)

1. The Canvas of Livin'

Above the striving and stitches, I paint a canvas of beautiful pain;
A tale of fear, of how I’ve lived, and memories that have remained.
Like a gush of wind, my spirit was stretched far and wide;
Crushed by thoughts that echoed near the ocean’s tide.

In fragments, I recall what’s left of me;
Their merriment, where the sun sets wild and free.
Oh, I’m not alone; thoughts still captivates me;
Yet, in the solitude, I’ll face the enormity.

I’ve been cast away from home, a return no more;
My soul weary, heart heavy as I endure.
Don’t ask me to sail from here; where shall I roam;
Who’ll shelter me, or offer bread to call home?

Though I strive alone, can’t I claim a dignified death?
Years lived on others’ will, their care, on their every breath;
They looked after me, reminding me in every moment’s frame.

So much to narrate, and fewer shall not withhold;
Let me live here till I rot, where death’s call will unfold.
Let me witness sunset’s final gleam on distant hills,
May the night’s darkness shine like a serene, blissful day’s gentle will.

***

2. The Barren Pages

The forgotten pages hath turned a tale,
The love that I’ve nurtured hath withered frail.
The fresh rose from the broken stem;
Hath wilted, and dust hath claimed ‘tis gem.

When my tears fall upon the pages,
They took birth, and danced in ‘tis secret stages.
Those nights that I’ve carved for thy gentle touch,
Nothing hath pierced my heart so deeply as such.

I tried to pour onto the pages more than ever;
No peace, no resolution hath touched my soul, “Have I troubled thee,” too much?
Nor hath the silence given me a moment’s peace,
Nor hath the burning candle arisen the buried spirit’s release.

Where shall I seek solace,
Or where should I stand before the dawn’s warm, golden light’s haze?
The pane flickers, reflecting the city’s chaotic roar;
Of laughter, merriment, and shadows that conceal more.

In city streets, where chaos oft’ reigns;
A soul rots with pain, deep within.
And very few know,
And to them who knows, never turns;
Nor, doth their words bring solace as such.

For I know their vilification ‘gainst me is the same,
Deep within, they fear a spirit tamed, grey, and lame.
So doth I embrace the city for the very last time,
Chances to see the dusk; maybe ‘tis my final slumber’s night.

Thou shalt not behold accusation,
For let me rest upon thy greatness;
Oh heaven, in thy mercy, hear my sigh;
And let my tears fall, until I say goodbye.

***

3. The Elusive Happiness

In search of mere happiness, we’ve lost our way;
Generosity forgotten, love's thread frayed.
We wander streets, seeking inner peace;
But turmoil follows, love's release.

A child chases grades, forgetting life's delight;
"Rise and never fall" – but moments take flight.
In providing for home, we lose our core;
Seeking second chances, but none come knocking door.

The aged wait, some alone, some in care;
Fearing the future, burdened, without repair.
Those who nurtured love are seen as weight,
Not cherished, but a burden to abate.

In seeking happiness, we build our cage;
I've stopped chasing; living present is my stage.
In the now, I find solace, peace that's real;
No longer elusive, happiness I feel so dear.

***

4. The Critics Chorus

When we embark on a journey of self-discovery,
And uncover the depths of our soul’s mystery.
The whispers of critics grow, like a murmuring sea;
A chorus of doubts, aimed at our authenticity.

Their words, a reflection of their own hidden fears;
A desperate attempt to dim the light of our tears.
Tears of joy, tears of liberation, tears of finally being free;
From the shackles of expectations, from the weight of conformity.

But we must not let their noise, drown out our inner voice;
For in embracing our true selves, we make a heartfelt choice.
To rise above the din, and shine with radiant grace;
And let the backbiting fade, like a fleeting, empty space.

Their words are but a mirror, reflecting their own pain;
A pain of feeling lost, of living a life in vain.
A life of pretending, of hiding behind masks;
Afraid to reveal their true selves, afraid of the task.

But we, who have dared to venture, into the unknown;
Must not let their fears, hold us back from our throne.
For we are the masters, of our own destiny;
And our true selves, are the key to our liberty.

So let us rise above, the whispers of doubt;
And shine with the light, of our authentic devout.
Let us embrace our quirks, our flaws, our unique design;
And let the backbiting fade, like a distant, fading whine.

For when we know who we are, and stand tall in our might;
The noise of critics, becomes a distant, fading light.
And we can see, with clarity, the beauty of our soul;
And the whispers of others, become a mere, fading role.

In this journey of self-discovery, we find our strength;
A strength that lies, in embracing our true length.
And though the backbiting may increase, with each step we take;
We must not let it stop us, for our true selves, we must not fake.

***

5. Resilience of Hope

In dawn’s hush, where city shadows sleep;
I yearn for bonds that time would keep.
A thread meant to break, yet I hold tightly;
Haunted by fears that chase me through the night brightly.

But amidst the darkness, I trust in one;
Who’s grown old, yet remains true an illusion to last.
Time alters all, yet some things stay;
Nature conquers, come what may.

Thy heart, still fragile, needs to know;
The balance between being used and letting go.
That the time will not sustain ,
Thy will seek forgiveness that will not claim.

But trust above the heaven,
For people are dying for this;
But for thee, better things will born and they’ll se