Everything Happens the way you really want them to be....

Though you may doubt their certainty
Its how deep within you wanna things to be
Whether its the turmoil of each beat
Or the indistinct instants you hold to
You search for an escape route indirectly
It is slammed on you momentarily
You cry out at the spontaneity
At the expression of required with such manner
Oh! Common dear its the best way it can ever happen……….
Just what you need and is true………..
Just as it should be , to look to
Yes this is the edges of your planned scenery
Though it may sound absurd and silly
Sometimes abrupt cleaves do help
Instead of large curves and bank
So you may shed the precious gems continuously
and feel like you are the most cheated one in entire humanity
But hold on "things are exactly the way they were meant to be"
By your decisions and priorities, by your conduct and thinking
So dear, come to senses, except the truth
Be bold to create sharp strokes and enjoy there effect
else it's a staggering monotonicity of clinching
for fear of discarding just a single link
You mess up the multitude spoil the eternity
Oh! common are you gone insane???
Yes you reflect, things are how you want them to be……..
So enjoy the scene and think what actually you wanna create……..
A barren dry-land or a flowery beach…
or a forest or some shallowly pond
As picture is always yours to paint……………
Without exception though it may not seem at present
Its actually your own creativity……..
Go ..enjoy your freedom of trying all the different beats……………
Forget to thank the almighty for the right stroke at blockades
But still you'll be offered the same whenever you wish though
you willingly run from it consistently, fearing a bad encounter
When the thing is its your reaction which associates it to bitter roots
The world is of co-existence of all the different varieties……
So you can always enjoy and marvel at each event
Its just you come above your fears or favors
and see through the eyes of a creator
Instead of immobilizing (internalizing) you as a puppet


Indeed the thought is to blame
For all remorse and all regrets
the positive encoding was all fake
Superimposed stuff of a lost game
Reality was nothing but wrong stroke
Painted by you at its heart
With your biases and dramatic implants
Out of the heavenic tour of world so large
You created black clouds so strong
Ya the beauty was thought as pain
the flight was taken as a shame
You wondered who is the creator of this game???
Oh ! its you , the blinded theatrical one, you are the one to blame

You know what it means by blessings & strokes
A child is born accompanying tons of hopes
Happy faces, everyone's life's new rose
Thorns do come in course of time , beyond doubt to object
But the main role is of the pious smile
its just like a little flower to behold
Even if someone plucks it, its by fancy , to adore
Out of your own, for your uniqueness to hold
Its not that it is discarded from the lot
Its not to consider it is outclassed
Its just it can see a new world
as a proud possession of some creature
Marveling at its excellence all the way
Its that flower who made to forget all
Yet you regret , mourn at that own precious self
See through the scenes, understand the hidden plot
the nuances are spellbinding, hard to catch
You'll  have to indulge, fall apart, regroup & collect
still you'll find the missing link
making it a perfect plot
of a perfect being , in a perfect scene..
you just grab its one out of multitudes of forms...................
and believe me, its the heaven!!!!!!