Aps- The Muddled Utopian

If it matters so much, why do you wait till you lose it forever? if you value it so much, why don't you show efforts, why not assure it with kind words and actions? why take it for granted, why to push it till it breaks apart? Don't you know, Once the plant dries up, it'll never bloom again no matter how much you water it! The biggest mistake we make is we think we have time! Why not tend to it while it's still alive, why not to heal the hurt with love? Why wait till it dies? Every bond is work. Hard work. It needs communication, care, compromise, and chemistry. Like a seesaw, it will have its ups and downs, someday it'll feel like hell, someday it'll feel like heaven, But learn to plant a garden where it burns and a forest will grow. Embrace the demons and fall in love with madness. Because we all love to sign up for adventures and then why get scared to take leaps? There is no room for a middle way in relationships, scream, shout and le

Away from the rustle of the city, in faraway lands lies her nostalgia. She remembers the landscape like the back of her hand, those thorny bushes, those earthy roads, those clean water lakes. Every passing moment is a symphony of onomatopoeia. There is something there which sounds like her calling, like a scrapbook filled with cutouts of the best adventures. The air smells like stories and the soil beneath her feet holds her, like a dad teaching his little one to walk. Here there are no races to be won, no struggles for survival, on timelines to meet, no chores to be completed, no need to take care of anyone, you are taken care of here. You are groomed, you bloom. These fields are alive, they have conquered monsters of time, like Santa Claus on Christmas, they only know to gift smiles. The girl in the fennel field finds her wonder here, that sparkle in her eyes, that curiosity on her words, that love in her heart. Like fireflies on a moonless night, her existence sp

Who were you before the world broke your heart into pieces? Who were you before you found out that human wore masks? Who were you before you realized there is way more out there than meets the eye? That gurl who went looking for wildflowers and fireflies in the dark... That gurl who colored outside the lines... That gurl who opened her heart to everyone without filters... That girl who dreamt like there is no tomorrow and laughed like no one's watching... Do you remember her?? Hell yeah, you do! She is still alive and kicking, underneath the layers of dust on the book, locked in that old trunk in the attic, hidden behind that old photo frame... That girl is YOU and YOU my dear are a rock of the desert, who shines like a diamond in the sunshine and sparkles like a pearl in the moonlight...

A tiny branch can be someone's world, That little leaf can be someone's home, 🍂🌾 A little girl wandering on the rocky pathway discovered that today. A small red spec turned in to a beetle with intricate patterns when she went closer,  Fluttered its wings and welcome her in its enclosure. It was happy with what it had and celebrated it, nibbling. Be blessed with what you have, it told her scribbling. Wonder is what she beholds in her eyes, Wonder is what she found. 🐞 And wonder is what she will pass on. After all, little things take up the biggest spaces in our hearts ❣ just like this little beetle  🐞

The hills always called her to wander, The brown, the green, the yellow always tempted her to get lost, The hues like mosaic pretended to be a mirror of her insides, Rays of light reflecting from the scattered stones made her eyes sparkle with happiness... In the hidden trails, she sought the clues of unexplored horizons, The little crawlers and shrubs gave her company, And the dried leaves rolling with the wind in the woods became the travel music she loved... The rough grass blades  sometimes  gave her cuts, and little droplets of blood oozed out like dewdrops on fallen leaves, She revisited those scars when she missed the hills... The hills had the language of silence and conversed with her in their own secret language, the rough edges, the uneven paths, the uncertainty, the thrill, Her heart thumped a decibel higher, the hairs on the back of her neck sang a little louder, the hills were her calling and they always called her to wander... 

When you set your feet on unknown roads, when you believe in mirages, You discover some footprints hidden under the dried leaves and wonder! Who would have wandered here before you? What did they talk about? What deeds they do? It all lingers on in the air, it's for you to smell it's for you to encode and for you to decode! Those mountains will make you realize what a tiny spec you are in the playground of the universe... Those clouds will play hide and seek with you along with the sunrays... The twigs and trees will become your mates in crime  And those shores lines will help you paint your own map... Travel is not when you travel to different places or countries, travel is when you discover something new in the littlest of things and when you explore the new in the old... It may be stepping foot in a new country, or it may be just turning a stone upside down, as long as you unfold a new hue of nature, have a beautiful conversation w

On a cold winter morning winter morning, she sat on an empty table alone. The surroundings were new and the faces were unknown.  There was a gloom in the air and eyes searching for a familiar smile and ears yearned to hear that friendly laughter. Brain gave up, coming to the logical conclusion that this is a new place and nobody knows you, so just accept it and move on.  But heart wanted warmth to move on. A warm hug, a pat on the back or maybe a small conversation. Cup of coffee came to her rescue . She held it with both her hands and felt a warm hug from a friend, " don't you feel lonely, I am right here", it said. With the first sip happy memories were pumped in her blood and by the time she finished, her heart was warm enough to move on to new adventures, to make new memories and to meet new people. Seriously,  Where would we be without coffee?

A mystery to be decoded, A history to be recorded. It freezes if you frame it, runs wild if you try to tame it. Slow for those who wait, runs very fast for the ones who are scared. Time seems longer when you are in pain, and shorter when you celebrate. The mosaic of the heart imprints time, the silhouettes of the veins write a story, all that was felt that made the soul melt is all that will stay, till you surrender to the gallows of time forever...  Time is puddle and it's up to us to muddle, dive in and soak up the ethereal essence, stay ashore and savor the silence, Because it will keep ticking away, even when the clock stops, And time keeps slipping away, irrespective... So love, live and give, make TIME eternal.

Bloom wherever you are planted... There will be hailstorms,  there will be rain showers, sometimes the grip will loosen,  sometimes your heart will be broken, But keep the fire burning, keep the light shining... Walk alone, walk together, run, sprint, keep going... You might reach where you wanna go or  it'll be an adventure on the road, But it will happen no matter... So bloom little bloomrie,  Bloom wherever you are planted...

Some heal aching soul, Some soothe the hurting heart, Some mark the beginning of new, Some mean the end... Sunsets are special as they set a trend... It's all a circle, we need to decide whether we want to be its radius or diameter. Trying to catch that last ray of sunshine, saving it for the night and surviving till the dawn break, Sometimes that's enough... Some leave a smile, Some leave a scar, Some kickoff endless thought chains, Some trigger a never-ending silence, Sunsets are special as they are near yet far...

When she ran they chased her, When she fell they held her, When she dreamed they showered sparkle, When she laughed, they echoed her laughter, And when she cried, they held her tears... They were her mates, whom she spoke as the sand slipped in the hourglass, And they answered to her questions without words... When they got entangled in her hair they became her hairband, And when they got stuck between her fingers, they became a ring of promise... They pricked sometimes while she walked on tough roads to ensure that she still feels, She was a wildflower and wildflowers she loved, They reminded her of her soul, wild and free... Wildflowers and She, She and Wildflowers were like the two halves of the pea in the peapod of the world... Wildflowers and she...