Brittled and magnified impulses,
of simple beauty beyond imagination,
embezzled thought provoked spite,
engulfed self in a state of confusion,
to draft simple thoughts on piece of paper?
To rectify mistakes and forgetting what it takes,
and further oozing out anger,
in a heroic gesture or an idiotic stance,
and celebrating victory with freedom songs,
to come home tired and try to scribble,
the seen and unseen and fill some ink, on what seems to be blank?
Daily this bumbling of thoughts,
the creative war progresses inside the mind,
and not long before it is left behind,
and some other thought flashes,
before it too burns to ashes,
for me its like a continuous symphony,
which keeps on playing and I,
just keep on filling the empty notes.
And sometimes i sing to listen,
to what these tones may bring,
mellow drastic sometimes too sharp,
in my own world i again start to warp,
and get embarked with happines and joy,
like a child given a toy,
amazed now at what a simple thought brought,
and this is the symphony of my own thought!