Rusted

 

An old bike sits in my garage.

It is covered in dust

and barely does it look nice.

One day it shall rust.

It was my favourite once,

I used to spend hours on it

riding through my favourite paths,

when suddenly it started to break down,

delayed my every plan.

I could no longer go around

and felt like a different man.

Everything has a life span.

 

When something/someone denies you from being the best version of yourself, understand that their time in your life is now over.

-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen

Walk/Run

Stellar it is to be sanguine,

In times of drought.

To speak amicably 

At the face of defeat.

Most fail at this

Not because they are oblivious of it

But because they run out,

Run out of patience, of hope.

To them and to myself, I say

Stop running. 

 

 

We work ourselves up so much that we start consuming our patience and our energy in the pursuit of our goals/dreams. Stop running and learn walking.

-The Poet and the Pen

 

Fiction

 

I have a theory that says,

Fiction is non-fiction in the making.

Those who transform a fiction into a fact

Change the ways of our living.

And that not many but one fiction

Resides in each of us.

Can we solve that question?

Do we have that obsession?

We seek greatness and immortality

In what lies in front of our eyes.

Maybe we fail because

It lies behind our eyes.

Find that fictitious thought,

Write it in your mind.

Heave till the fact is caught,

Fiction is yours but non-fiction is for the mankind.

 

 

We all have that one thought inside our mind which if realised and put out there in the world, it can make the world a better place.