sprinkleofthunder

[sprinkleofthunder]

Why do you call me stardust?

Why do I always have to be a speck? Mere pieces?

Why can't I be whole?

Why can't I be a star instead?

[sprinkleofthunder]

You reap what you sow. Doesn't mean you should fear sowing.

Make a choice,

My dear friend.

The path divides—

It's a dead end.

Think a little,

But don't think much.

Since we have time,

But not as such.

Might break your heart,

But don't lose your mind.

Future might change.

But not what you left behind.

Don't think about

What you lose or gain.

For the path ends here,

But the journey remains.

—by sprinkleofthunder on tumblr

[sprinkleofthunder]

Why do eldest daughters always have to be a thunderstorm, a war, a revolution, a revolt while being the gentlest spring sunshine at the same time?

How do I keep this roaring fire and raging waters together within me?

[sprinkleofthunder]

It's the call of the void :)

Have you ever stood at the edge of a cliff, feeling the wind whispering secrets as you contemplate taking the leap?

[sprinkleofthunder]

Isn't it always the hopeless who hope the most? Why does hope have to be this snarling beast within me waiting for light, when all waiting does is choke me more and more with darkness? It drives me mad how hope just screams at me to fight back while I barely manage to defend myself and stay alive.

[sprinkleofthunder]

Life starts with chaos and ends with the lack of it. Maybe that's why, living was never meant for the sane.

Excerpt from "All the Lightning trapped in Glass Jars" by sprinkleofthunder on tumblr

[sprinkleofthunder]

I hear your silence, loud and clear, all the time.

I hear you when you sip your morning coffee and when you lay your head on my shoulder while watching a movie. I hear your exhaustion when you sit quietly on the sofa after a long day and your encouragement when you give me a hug. I hear your flirting when you lace our fingers and snake your arm around my waist and I hear all your "good morning"s in your morning kisses. I hear you silently whispering "I missed you" when you kiss my forehead after I come home from work. I can hear your laughter when you smile. I hear you loud and clear, all the time.

I think if I try hard enough, one day I would be able to hold your silent void in my palms and caress it.

Love.. you have the most comforting silence I've ever known.

Excerpt from "Love letters to no one" by sprinkleofthunder on tumblr

Hi! You can give me poetry/writing prompts in my asks. I love writing and I love challenges :)

[sprinkleofthunder]

by sprinkleofthunder on tumblr

[sprinkleofthunder]

I think not knowing what I loved you for was the purest form of love that I ever experienced.

[sprinkleofthunder]

Why do you even dream if you can't fulfill them? Aren't you tired of dreaming after failing repeatedly? Do you feel no shame while setting such unrealistic goals?

There are some dreams

That soar to high—

You try your best to touch

But you can not fly.

Then, will you my friend

Out of despair and spite,

Despise all who dream

But can't shine bright?

Will you lie down

On the lonely floor;

And question those dreams

Instead of dreaming more?

by sprinkleofthunder on tumblr

[sprinkleofthunder]

The star that exploded and made your pretty smile and shining eyes must have also made my heart that flutters everytime, seeing those.

Excerpt from "I think we are starmates" by sprinkleofthunder on tumblr

[sprinkleofthunder]

I think we are starmates

You asked me that day if I too think that we are soulmates. I thought about it a lot last night. I don't really understand much about souls but I do think that maybe we were made from the same star. The star that exploded and made your pretty smile and shining eyes must have also made my heart that flutters everytime, seeing those. I think we were meant to come together in every lifetime, for we must have began our journey together since the beginning of the our existence, as clusters of stardust. I think we are starmates.

Excerpt from "Love letters to no one" by sprinkleofthunder on tumblr

[sprinkleofthunder]

Maybe love is grey

when i sit silently by the window sill looking at the grey sky.

we quarreled in the morning. i don't know how it started. little grudges accumulate and slowly explode into a big fight. the street outside is deserted. it's raining, the window glass is foggy. you went out after the fight to cool off and haven't returned yet. i made your favourite dessert to apologize. so i am sitting silently close to the main door waiting for you.

when the door unlocks and you step in, you are drenched. we stare at each other and and the stare burns me. you must be cold because you are trembling. i want to talk but i look way. your eyes are too sad. i feel guilty and the guilt chokes me up and my throat burns with emotions.

when you cup my cheeks and kiss me, we are both crying and the kiss is salty.

"i bought noodles from your favourite take out store", your breath is warm against my skin. our foreheads are connected. your chest rises and falls against my palm. this is home.

"you'll catch a cold. take a warm bath. i baked a chocolate cake."

Excerpt from "Colours of Love" by sprinkleofthunder on tumblr

[sprinkleofthunder]

When someone cries, I think they pray to their souls

Mother says souls exist, so does heaven and hell. Mother scolds me everyday because I never pray. Mother says I am too arrogant for not submitting to God.

I always quarrel back. Religion is a delusion, I say, rebellion roaring in my eyes and spreading across my veins.

Later in the week, when guilt, desperation and worries choke me and I can't breathe, I secretly go to the praying room in the middle of the night. To cry. I look in the eyes of the God and breakdown into tears. Because that's how I pray. That's how I pray to my soul. To the God that keeps my heart beating. That's how I pray for forgiveness from the God that gives me life.

I cry. I cry. I cry.

[sprinkleofthunder]

I used to cringe at my crappy teenage poetry previously but now I don't. Yes I was pretentious. Yes everyone judged me but I think it was one of the best things I did.

if you’re in high school right now you gotta start writing poetry trust me on this, it’s cringe, poetry kids are pretentious, you’ll look back on it and be embarrassed, and it is literally the best thing you could be doing right now. The world is in dire need of more crappy teenage poetry

[sprinkleofthunder]

Recently I found out that I forgot how to write

I remember I used to write. I used to write about stars and moons and suns and exploding galaxies and collapsing nebulae. I used to write about lost cities and blurry city lights on a rainy night. I used to write about cuddles, snuggles, forehead kisses and about stealing pickle jars from my grandmother’s room. I used to write about shooting stars and secret wishes. I used to write about how the colour of happiness was vibrant yellow.

Last month, when I was laying on bed, pale yellow sunlight falling on my face, I remembered I used to write. I used to write in an old torn diary I found in the attic while playing hide and seek with my cousins. The pages used to fall out. I collected them like treasure, etching memories into my words. Because the world was a kaleidoscope and every word was a different colour.

I tried writing again recently. But the words jumbled up. The adjectives no longer gasped and the conjunctions no longer sighed. The word “pretty” was no longer pink in colour and the colour of the sky was simply a sad blue. The clouds weren’t cotton candy but only gloomy grey frozen rain. The world didn’t seem like a kaleidoscope and I barely wondered about the stars in the sky.

That day, I wondered how I forgot to write. Was it gradual? When did the watercolour sky lose all it’s glitter? When did breeze start to scratch my skin instead of caressing it? I wondered a lot that day; just like my childhood days. I wondered if the colour of happiness was still yellow. And I wondered what colour “pretty” would be at present. And before long, I was crying — shoulders shaking and body trembling because the weight of air can only be felt after losing childhood; because the fog in the air grows thicker after sixteen and turns you blind by twenty; because my vision only registers monochrome now.

I searched for the diary this weekend and found it tucked in the corner of the attic. The pages were in a wreck, torn and moth-eaten. And I stared at the dull- yellow page where I had written in capital letters —

THE COLOUR OF HAPPINESS IS YELLOW.

I stared at my messy cursive handwriting and the dull-yellow page. Maybe I was correct. The colour of happiness might be yellow.

[sprinkleofthunder]

I will be selfish. I don't want to juggle between selflessness and selfishness anymore. I want something. I crave something. I yearn something. I dream something. I will achieve it. Even if the world screams that it's not for me. This dream is mine. Only mine. I embrace this selfishness because it is the only thing that I found in every human I communicated with. Let me be a human. I dream. I want to live. Let me live. I want to live for myself and no one else. Because I dream to live. I want to live. I will live.