It is after all your understanding,
Your discovery, your journey,
Which holds the key.

Seek out the silence
Then amidst this tempestuous fury
Ordained by societal change.

Free from constraints
Lies the deity
Within your bosom.

To see what is meant to be;
Cut through the monotony.
Pick up the sword of clarity’s decree.

The snares of doubt
Parasites eating at your soul.
Intricately weaved to be torn.
Tear and rip out.

The conduit of human experience
Find where language was born.
Interpretation of your voice
And mine are unnecessary.

Thrown into despair and rage
The intensity doesn’t diminish
With age.

I have yet to listen.
I have yet to learn.
To decipher this yearn.

From whence this feeling rose.
Closer than close.
The One.

No easy task to uncover.
Dirty hands, weary mind.
Fighting for the lands

Deep within the psyche
Lies the truest identity.
Then seek out the gaze

Of a warrior.
Ideas formed from others,
Festering like pestilence.

Ebb and flow. Must let go.
Whispered almost secretly
‘Neath the murmuring
This divine gift of choice.

Behind the voice.
Listening, oh listening!
Any moment so much to surmise.

At times the King
Alas other moments
Mercilessly beaten
By doubt’s demise.

Condemning, inspiring.
Every nuance in-between.
Speaking incessantly
Without reprieve.

Interesting proposition
Some loud, others bleak,
Voices as they speak.

Atul Ranchod


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