Where the Lotus Bloomed 

Underneath the stars, amidst the dust storms.
A void of space and vacuum,
In the great expanse,
Like a swarm of fire-flies,
The lotus bloomed.

Where did the seeds come from?
With the sweat, blood, and toil.
In the stillness of the space and time,
The minds kept on going.
The lotus bloomed.

A cosmic mystery?
When a civilisation crumbled;
Another rose, humanity survived.
Against all the adversities,
The lotus bloomed.

A plan was already in place; 
Using mathematics, calculations were made.
A new seat of power was created.
After all the suspense, events unfolded.
The lotus bloomed.

But can everything be predicted?
Can the future be decided?
Some were flawed, most of them were right.
As the soothsayer once predicted,
Like a wildflower, the lotus still bloomed.

Sweta

When the Heart Speaks

I write when I’m happy,
When sunlight spills across the sky,
I write when the sky’s all blue,
And when the raindrops gently touch my skin.

In light and love,
With my heart open and my hand steady,
I write.
I know my fire,
What I’ve built from the peace and the chaos.

Today with a full heart,
And with you on my mind.
I write in joy and in love,
To feel, to heal, to understand.

Sweta

He’s There

It began with a soft whisper in the air,
Then came the gentle rumble,
The playful clatter, flashes of lightning—
The world turned grey,
But I smiled,
Because I heard his voice in my mind.

My heart once longed and pined,
But now, it simply knows—
He’s near.
In every word I speak,
In every quiet moment—
He’s there.

And though the storm raged outside,
And thunder rolled through the skies,
I no longer feel any fear.
He’s with me.
He’s always there.

Rise and Fly

There will come a time when you will rise,
A moment when tears will no longer cloud your skies.
But until then, my dearest, burn—
In agony, in fear, in pain, in despair.
Burn! Burn! Burn!

Stay silent, step away,
Avoid the paths that lead you astray.
Shield yourself if you must,
From the chaos that shatters your faith.

And quietly,
Rise! Rise! Rise!
And slowly,
Fly! Fly! Fly!

Sweta

Fire

What a life it must be—
To be normal,
To walk through days unshaken,
To know a mind untouched by chaos.

What is it like, I wonder,
To have never felt despair
Seep through the cracks of your soul,
Leaving it scorched and aching?

And yet, I would not trade,
this madness, this despair.
For in this burning,
I have found my fire.

Sweta

Feelings

When it pours, it pours—feelings, I mean.

A slip of the tongue brings forth sleepless nights—

more humiliation, less humbling.

The restless mind keeps on working,

repeating, rehearsing

things I should have said,

things I should say,

torturing the soul each day.

It pours and pours—feelings I long to let go.

Sleepless tonight; perhaps tomorrow will bring

more humility and less humiliation.