Looking at the twixt of horizon, I see a thousand splendid curves of starry azure. Each star is a mother of love and the mother represents the indomitability of a son’s dreams. The night I loved was a sheltering mother to me, the bare moonlight enables me to walk through eternity and the darkness of world. Well I remember a small anecdote, I call it the turning point of dreams. My journey in life ne’er knew its limits and my mother moved me to face the stirring impediments of such a world.
The schooling that I had to go through, was a very difficult process. Academic vigor and strain didn’t inspire me to figure out my life’s dream and charm. School ne’er opened its door to my world and there my mother’s presence loomed o’er the gloomy sky of chaos. She knew her child, the patience, her nurture was a real factor for me to sharpen my thoughts and deepen my actions to. Despite the challenging constraints of life, I squabbled through my school career as with no ultimate intention, but mother taught me to learn as if you are to live forever, quoting Mahatma Gandhi.
My world have I little understood, mother used to read out great literature in most evenings. Classics of legend Tolstoy, the words worth’s nature aptness and romantic hero Lord Byron to. She was the prefect companion for a child’s truthful energy and upbringing, the stimulus of life. As moments came, I struggled to comprehends the impression that left me in deep bewilderment. My early poems were only an experiment with imagination and the words was pain. One of my worst school teachers, once discovered my four-lined, tore up the page of notebook. That callous act pained me so much and school days left the spiraling wind of revenge. The school defeated my hopes and the institution was a sham, didn’t moved to my goal. Mother always knew the best for me, she decoded my mind’s struggle and the intensity of reality, to cope up with the stress.
School ne’er supported me, and the stories echoed the real pain, tears of life. It is a truth that your upbringing effects your personality and character, overall impacts his way of thinking. My mother turned our little house into a home of beautiful dreams. Her sacrifice to make me smile in life, is something beyond a young boy’s imagination. The flames of truth is open and inextinguishable, it swallows me into a whirlpool of mystery. I wrote poems for my mother, poems are my life and mother becomes a soul within it. The touch of her magic into the meaning and beauty of love.
All my poems have a connecting blood line to my mother’s womb. As I believe, my verse came out from her womb with wings, fantasy and some care. It was the commencement of long emotional outburst that witness the flow and fire of imagination from my heart. My mother is the poetry of life and her love is the essence and meaning of it.
The author is a Writer and Poet
