Wanderlust

Loved the way the bluest sky,

Often the tiniest bits of it,
twinkles through the green leaves,
And when it race you to there.
The black roads untouched,
Memories of tires burnt long ago,
He woke them up with love,
They carried him all the way,
following the high heart.

Sunk in the mountain fogs,
Embracing the fresh paths of woods,
Lively streams quenched the thirst,
made him high for more.
Wanderlust was always at edges,
Loving to get lost to find himself.
But was stringed to bright screens,
Lame faces and not the free birds,
Or the wild flowers he wanted.
Stuck stuck stuck
With the world he loathed,

And the bookworm he couldn't count on.

As always he wanted to fly.
He was meant to.

Who are the winners?

Indeed it's a sour truth that most of us have pretty good experience with failures than successes.I may use few asterisks for this is not the case of all. There exist people who were born to win.
I personally had more loses than wins.
We have so much to go for, so many things to fight for. In between failures kill the spirits perpetually and thanks to the wonderful brain which manipulate it into "stepping stones" and the contribution of the  poor memory too. Wins help in building confidence and also to create more failures sometimes.
Well, life always has an affinity towards failures.
Obviously, deep inside we bludgeon ourselves as losers.
College, career, job, family, expectations,dreams.

Now, read this out.
Let's find out something different.

1. What are dreams?

They are not goals, not plans and not some stupid following-path-mission. They and uniquely and ubiquitously dreams. The ones that never let you sleep. It is the one you think about on every single day until you start living them. So whatever you do, for whatever you fight for, make sure it's for the very dream that inspires to live every second. It doesn't matter if you're stuck in something other, quit it nicely or manage it until you cherish your dreams, because staying reluctantly stagnant increase your failures. Simply, Do what you love. (Even though its not that simple)

2.Why do we fail?

Because we want to. You may not accept this, but it's the truth. In the fathomless abyss of the heart, you don't want those wins for yourself. These were just some short term goals or plans for the ones you really care about. You'll start winning at the moment you start doing things for yourselves. That's not being selfish but just showing self respect. So if you're doing something for others and tired of failing them, stop it and convince your folks.
They'll understand.Maybe you should add an account on how its killing your one and only precious life.

3. Are we losers?

No, we are not. We can't lose what we want. The things we lost were the stuffs that were unnecessary to the heart. If you really need something, or if it's your precious dream, you're gonna get it one day and every single step or attempt towards it is a progress.No matter what, you'll die for it. Never give up, it's worth to fight for what you love.

So in fact we haven't lost anything. And we are never losers.

Dears, let's never get heart sick or sad about what we lost. We have not lost anything we needed so badly.
Keep your heads high and go for what you love.
Don't listen to the words of the world that pushes you back.
Never let the words of comparison Pierce you.
It's you who knows you better than anyone.
Believe.  love.   live.
Never forget to say a good word or offer an arm to the ones you see in between your journey to find yourself.

A change to the blog name!

It's about 4 years since I've started writing this blog. Even though I haven't been a frequent poster or a blogger who always kept track of the events in her life and inspirations on the blog, I love this little world I have. All the posts right from "Dreamcatchers" include everything that have moved me deeply. I write when I feel like the saturation point of holding no more emotions to myself and that means all the moments of writing each of the posts were the edgy times of my life.

I'm still at the state of ambiguity about why I started a blog. I was 16 and just felt like my writings would look amazing with classic backgrounds, pictures and eerie fonts and obviously it was cool to have a blog. Later I discovered that the true emotion of writing in a blog was 'freedom'
and a tranquil escape from chaos to myself. Hits,comments,shares,followers and popularity were all truly least of my concern for never once I've shared the blog on my social network walls. I wanted the world to read what I've written, I wanted them to discover it someday naturally. I don't mind waiting.

I named it 'The rise of a Phoenix' for the sake of fascination with Phoenix birds.The incredible and beautiful idea of a life growing out of fire which was the invincible destruction of the same, but after 4 years I feel like I've not been writing to grow into something magnificent, I wanted to abscond  from the world and the part of the growth it induced in me. Writing was forgetting everything and being me to the fullest. It was my oblivion.
A happy oblivion.
So dears, here I'm changing the blog name to 'Happy oblivion'.

Love
Ankitha.

Smoked Heart

Everything becomes true and real when it is to it's fullest, whether it be the emotions or deeds. I've never felt any good in limiting the life, though some situations tend to oblige us to do so. The more such situations, the lesser we live. Before 7 weeks from this day, I felt like I was the happiest person on earth. Everything were going so gentle and pleasant, suddenly from the next day onwards the love of obnoxiousness showered on me. I was fitting in to a tougher dilemma, oneday everything turned to a cake and again I was allowed to float freely under the warm and bright sunlight. Then again all of a sudden I was drowned. But this time it's never like before. I let go of many great things things of and for my life. I die everyday of the regrets and gets reformed by the dreams about future. Whatever things I had to let go were unnecessary for my heart, but very much required for everyone around me now and later. But now, I indulged something which was preciously poignant. Everything and everyone else were oblivious. My heart required it, but it's gone. Painfully irrefutable. I'll be resurrected, though everything will live deep inside for it has only made me a much better person.
I'm going through hardest of times.
I haven't read for weeks and written for months. Some kind of rare pain was engulfing my heart. I feel like it is being smoked. Sometimes I don't even get the relevance of breathing. A dangerous lethargy.
Everything will get better.

To live. To breathe.

I watched the movie 'Me before you', just a few seconds ago and fell in love with it. Maybe because I was craving for a emotional vacation as I'm getting pretty much sick of the life presently. Incredible performance from Sam Clafin (and his dimples,of course) and Emilia Clarke. Actually the movie had prompted me to read it's book.Really I desperately want to, now. More than everything I feel depressed and it made me better. Insane thing! But believe me, I feel glad that I felt something, you know, so ardently, it moved my heart. Such a poignant piece of art.
Sometimes to make art influencing and to have a miraculous reach is just by bringing more life into it rather than filling it with fiction and twists and graphics. Just simply, life. I've always been in love with books and movies which showed life, what it is to be alive through each day and how those little and beautiful imprints also the grim ones of each day stitches to our soul. And finally when we leave this wonderful world, that last blink, the things that will stay in heart, those imprints of the past beautiful life. Every time when reading, when the author describes about the most precious and irrefutable events of any character's life in little phrases, it never leaves my mind. I always remember them. I love that speechless moment of life astounding me, whether in an art or really happening. I've always wanted life be so close to me, so close that I can hear my heart beating to myself. That's why I want to write. That's the reason I love art.
It makes me feel alive and sound.

63

Ink glorified, lens extravagances and
the brains made it magnificent.
The prototypes were admired,
Beyond time and lives.

Seldom thought it'll be alive,
Nor revered it for real.
In the abyss of the beats,
And deep of the thoughts,
Longed for it secretly.

'It' brought me to it.
Tediously, yet gracefully.

The 'sunshine' lightened up,
My tenebrious heart.
Was my world and above,
Were my burning stars,
In the darkest sky.
Was my beloved song,
Of the eternal playlist.
Had the deepest voice,
that called to time travel.
Was the 'mirror' ; assonant,
But the opposite,
Was the host of dreams,
I would be visitant.

Was the 'it' of mine,
For 'it' was the most,
Beautiful. Incredible.poignant
And writhing.

'It' was love.

63 Suns and 'it' burned.
Then I smoked the clouds,
drunk the oceans
And the pain.
It stayed.
I killed 'it' and it killed me.

The 'mirror' was lonely.

Bliss of the awaited.

Finally the petrichor arose...
The sobriquet of love.
R A I N.
Those little droplets kissed the flowers as a souvenir.
My mind wandered beyond miles,
And it rained there too.