Sushant Kansari

ONCE STAYED STRONG The street commenced, and the unseen oval behind triggered the turning heads. The eerie breeze tested the thin cotton’s hold. With every careful step ahead, the sliding eyes roamed. A sight that stirred the stillness of cloth searched for the valley where the night could lie. Behind that valley a trembling heart waited, counting the steps remaining. Waves rose and fell within the restless mind, reminding her of the ship that had once stayed strong.

In somber graveyard silence, Delicate petals unfold, hope displayed. Where tears fall like morning dew, Your scent brings solace, love regained. A million voices echo through, Your name whispered, anew. Amidst my legacy's mighty stones, You lay your first tender roots alone. One life, fully lived, now rests, A smile etched on his peaceful breast. He's lived, loved, laughed, and cried, Content in death, his story told. You, newborn flower, unfurl, Unbridled joy, in life's whirl. No regrets, no fears, no pain, Just innocence, and life's sweet refrain. The grave whispers, "I've seen it all, The world's deceit, its fatal fall. Mirages of joy, illusions of might, Dirty games that end in endless night." The newborn flower responds with glee, "But you've missed life's authentic spree! You've walked with loved ones, hand in hand, Witnessed beauty, in this fragile land. "You've seen the sunrise, warm and bright, Felt love's embrace, on darkest nights. Though worn and weary, your heart remains, Rich with memories, and love's sweet stains." The grave retorts, "Your innocence blinds, To suffering, pain, and heartless winds. You'll learn, dear one, as time unfolds, The world's harsh truths, its cruel gold."

Maybe more than a utopian dream one could hold, Moment spent nursing , even existence a question. Buying was not an option, And achieving wasn't in destiny. Let the cycle of breath get a pause Where you I get behold. Holding what slips away, Fingers close on shadows of intent. The weight of nothing carried Yet heavier than stone. Questions circle like vultures On a sky that never clears, And the self becomes a whisper, Unheard even by its own ears. If claim is the lie, And existence the bargaining chip, Then what is left to cradle, When even memory begins to drip? Pause, again, the breath Not in defiance, But in the weary wish To dissolve into the unnamed. And there I remain, Not with answers, But within the silence, A breath between questions.

When the door was closed, the window splintered wide. The edge of humanity fades, with the last trembling light. Facts dissolve into opinion, truth scatters into miles of air. Reality drifts in free hands, reshaping every fragment, every breath. The sun climbs from the West, and sinks in the East. Fishes glide across burning skies, while birds dive from the abyssal shore. Galaxies bend around the dark, like bare nerves swirling in silence. The world holds its breath— and so does what we call human.

The dream did not arrive loudly. It settled somewhere behind the ribs, quiet at first. Then it grew not into light, but into weight that sat on the chest and called itself purpose. Mistakes stopped feeling human. They became verdicts. What once felt like direction, now hinders the same way. the intensity used to guide Now blurred when it turns inward. And somewhere between what I want and what I do, a doubt took shape not loud, not even certain, just precise enough to whisper. "you won’t reach it."