The fitful alternations of the rain, When the chill wind, languid as with pain. Of its own heavy moisture, here and there, Drives through the grey and beamless atmosphere...
I am Soma Rana.
A believer of that there is a very thin line between success and a failure.
99.99 % can never be 100%.
''Poetry...
it is my life.....full of colors and expression.
It is filled with words of beauty and emotion.
Its my world of dream and imagination...''
interested in writing, creating, cooking, learning about our Creator, keeping commitments, evolving,loving people...
I am not a tear, a suspended raindrop on a window, a lost and lonely wolf. Nor a fragile belief, easily shattered and delicate Nor a balloon filled with hot air, ready to burst. I am an intelligent thought, observing, listening, and watching the world go by.
I am not always an abstract painting of confusion and chaos Nor a bright and cheery spring day Nor a smile or note of laughter that rings through a school hallway. I am a puzzle that eventually fits together perfectly
I wish I could always be a smileand a reason for others to smile. So... I have to be me.
I broke my soul the other day. I hate it when that happens. My karmas bent, my chakras cracked, and my Kundalini flattened.
I stuck my fingers in the fire and scorched them to the joint. I rote my rite and rung my bell, but forgot one tiny point. I've been calcinating since ever Just can't dissolve, separate, or ferment!
If a force that's raised is out of phase with the resident elemental, the resulting blow to the raiser's mind can be seriously detrimental.
So the scales of balance tipped once more, and reality went berserk. But the journey's end made me surer than before that it really is a bloody Great Work.
The color of love
I have promised myself....that I shall get up every time I fall....no matter how bad it hurts...no matter how soul less I become....For I know...that its just a phase...and this too shall pass. Coz what I had once loved is a part of me now.....and will always remain so
“Know you what it is to be a child.....an epitom of innocence? It is to be something very different from the man of to-day. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child has its fairy godmother in its own soul.”
If passion were a flame of fire, That burned into my soul; I'd be consumed by this inferno, By you who makes me whole. Just like the moth who can't resist, Who's drawn into the fire; I dance around the flickering light, Of passion and desire.
I look so deeply in your eyes, At the hair I long to touch; I hear my name come whispering, 'Cross lips I need so much. My heart is filled with longing, I stand too near the fire. Again I'm drawn by the music, Of passion and desire.
My hands reach out to touch you, I live for one look from your eyes; I whisper your name in the quiet times, My love too strong to deny. I dance to the tune of your music, I sway in the glow of your fire. Ever drawn into this inferno, Of passion and desire.
Heaven sent
All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother
Aah.....so true
TO MY ANGEL
I thought I saw an angel, I didn't mean to stare; I had them pictured differently, Till I saw you standing there.
You may not have a halo, But you have that certain grace; I can tell that you're an angel, From that look there on your face.
For only angels shine that way, You have this heart convinced; You may not have a set of wings But I know you're Heaven sent.
For only God would send a gift, So good and sweet and kind; Don't try to tell me otherwise, I'll never change my mind.
You may think that I am seeing things, But I see through eyes of love; My heart is convinced, I've been given a gift, You're my angel from above.
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