If There Was No One To Read

Imagine a world where

There was no one to read.

No one to admire culture, 

Neither any creed. 


Like an empty nest

Existence would rest.

How would it bleed

If there was no one to read. 


No precious words

Would ever be heard,

For there would be

No souls to ever whir. 


Hollow our lives would become,

Never any pain we would succumb.

No fiction would ever breed,

If there was no one to read. 


To imagine it is impossible

The world would be a puzzle.

No imagination would we ever feed,

If there was no one to read. 


~ Guni

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Sound of The Night

Sometime, Close your eyes, take a break, listen to the quiet night, for you hear it everyday, but never listen... Feel the silence taking over, and the warmth getting lower...  Hear the crickets' concert, it might not make your ears hurt...  Close your eyes, take a break, listen to the blowing winds, for this maybe the last of springs... Feel them soon before they're gone, for they don't last after dawn... Hear the leaves rustle, and stop the hustle... Feel the wind blowing inside you, rinse your soul, for you need it, to live in this chaotic world. Hear the nature speak, for it is something we don't give an ear... The sound of nature is like water, it is what you want to make it,  You may call it a song, you may call it noise, you may ignore it... But listen to what it says for once, and you'll explore it... It is what you don't know exists,  It is something you need,  It is something so sweet The sound of the night is pure,  That blue feeling? It may even cure
Read more

There Was A Time...

There was a time,  When homes were not limited to their boundaries,  and rivers were treated like Goddesses, be it Narmada, or Godavari.  When children were considered truthful & pure,  and mother's love was the ultimate cure. When there was greenery more than roads, and nature was treated as abode. When at night the world used to rest, and the young adults weren't depressed. When women used to walk around careless, and nothing was ever such a mess. When people respected each other, and there was no bias on caste or colour. When people followed their passion, and following traditions was not fashion. When art was considered sacred, and there was never so much hatred. When there were more humans than people, and summers were filled with the singing beetles. There was a time, When everything was peaceful,  Yes it once existed, now in our memories, we cherish. Just for a day, I want that time back, so that the memories do not perish... ~ Guni  
Read more

Writers of The Unknown

I don't feel I am a writer I happen to know because they call me so,  I don't know who a writer is; is it someone who writes,  or someone who expresses to survive? I don't know how this world  caves in on a piece of paper,  there is always so much to be left for later;  Every time someone writes their mind with ink,  it's a new world, a novel beginning.  Who is a writer, is it the one who writes on paper? I don't call myself one, too,  because bleed my heart on paper is all I do; perhaps this is what they do, mere mortals,  others call them writers and make them immortal.   ~ Guni
Read more