They call the ship 'Burden,'
An indestructible vessel,
Rival to the monsters of the sea.
It's exactly what the people needed,
For you see,
In the depths lurked a beast.
Eighty tentacles, four trade ships tall and wide,
A hundred-thirty teeth when it's smile lied.
They called it, "Kraken."
It was nothing of the likes you've seen,
Emperor of the dark sea.

The Burden could hold fifteen hundred men,
Arming harpoons, cannons, muskets, wit.
The king ordered them to turn the seas red with gore,
Call forth the Kraken,
Strike it dead.
Then to the king,
They would drag back it's head.

So come high-noon,
The ship was in place,
Above the deepest of sea caves.
Letting forth crates of bait,
Staining the waters of the sea,
Until the sailors heard a rumble,
Shake the Burden's iron shell.

Up from the waters came long river's hell,
Tentacles like spires towering well beyond the sails.
But the crew held steady,
"Tighten the ropes, arm our cannons,"
Cried the captain,
"Then fire!"
The seas filled with blood,
The sky filled with gunpowder, fractured shells,
A shriek rang out from the deeps.
The cry of death,
From the Kraken itself.
Tentacles sinking away,
"The head!" Cried the captian,
So Lutenent Lucus dived after the creature.

Tied by a rope,
Pike in hand,
The creature's head,
He began to drag.
Though, glancing over his shoulder,
Through the murk he could see,
The form of a woman swimming away.
Some curse broken, he decided,
A soul freed from grim reality.

Peace.

Entwined in each other’s arms,

It wasn’t our first embrace,

Nor the second—

It felt like eternity.

Wrapped in warmth and illusion,
Our eyes met,

And my soul asked softly:

What is love?
His lips found mine.
My body responded to obsession
Disguised as passion.

A voice within whispered, Stop.

But I wondered—
What’s the worst that could happen?
In the end, I lost a friend

And found a teacher.

Together, we unearthed

The broken and shamed within me.
Together, we stood

In the light of darkness,

In the joy of sorrow,

In the healing of pain.
Then I walked away—

Far, far away—
To the land of escape,

In search of my destiny.

My only true guardian

Was me—
Myself,

And the story I carried.
When I look back,

I see the fear.

When I see now,
I
honor the trust

I placed in myself

To shape a better future.
I searched for answers,

And my soul listened.
I suffered alone—

But I don’t have to live alone.
So now I rise.

I speak.
I love myself—

Not in halves, but whole.
I am joyful.

I am trusting.

I am free
And here I am—

Writing this poem,

So our conversation never ends.
I am grateful.

I am whole.

Life is this and that—

An ending,

And the beginning

Of something new.
Till we meet again,

In a new life,

With a new plan.

Every Morning,when I rise, I do make sure
there’s nothing in my mind
nothing in my body
and nothing in my soul
as if I am a bottomless whole
as if I am a fresh born baby

Then I make sure,whatever work I am going to do
In the day
Will improve my mind,body or soul or
Somebody’s other body, mind or soul
And if my work is neither doing anything I said above
Then I am a useless monster just passing my time for sure

And when I have done the improvement work
Then every night, when I sleep
I feel mind like heaven
Feel my soul dancing
Feel my body energetic

And  if I have done no improvement work
Then I feel no difference between
Rising and sleeping.
I was a bottomless whole and still
Have achieved no goal.

Now you decide o people!!
Whether you want difference in your rise and sleep
Or you just want similarity
And remaining at the bottom of heap.

Choice is yours o people!!
Options are mine
I suggest you  to chose the improvement option
As it will take you to the cloud nine.

And then every morning, when I rise.
I do make sure……
I do make sure……

I opened that notebook again,
After ages I picked my pen.
Pressed strength on my wrist,
Gave my hand a gentle twist.

Scribbling through, I went on
In the world where ink lace spun.
But it was different from what I knew,
This ink was of a different hue.

And I flipped the pages back
A glimpse of me in the ink stained rack
The letters were bolder, deeper even
They held power higher than I now sustain.

And so I closed my notebook again,
It's ink wasn't in my own pen.
And I closed the lid once more
Let it sit where it was, before.

His men still,
All at arms,
Young of age
Not readied for all harm.

"Fire the artillery,
Send for the Calvary,
Get them there,
Hold the line!

Die not for yourself,
A simple trade:
Life for eternal glory,
No soul is wasted,
In these fields of death"

He watches, he waits
He thinks, he stumbles
All in vain
As his plans fall the drain

"What now?" they say,
All is lost, none stand,
Great autumn orchids
Stained red
With youthful pride and vigor,
Gone for a pointless dream.

Guiding hand
To earnest and certain doom,
He sits on a throne of corpses,
Wasted genius, wasted effort,
All for naught, all far gone.

Tactician, intellectual,
Butcher, fool
Hero, Angel,
Villain, Devil,
A man of no equal,
A man of all folly,

A leader and a killer,
A man , in his hands
The hopes of nations
And empires,
A man with no where to go,
"There's nothing we can do.",
He says at last,
"Here's my Waterloo ; all is lost.".

As he stands in surrender,
Both flawless general
And flawed man.