Milomi's world

Overflowing Ideas.

recent posts

about

Just because I’m awake doesn’t mean I can’t dream.

  • Promise Me- poem

    This is a promise. I leave the rest to you

    If the sea stops roaring
    The leaves stop rustling
    The brook stops rushing
    The flowers stop blooming
    The birds stop singing
    The grass stops dewing
    The mud stops staying
    The sands stop swirling
    The rains stop pouring
    The fruits stop ripening
    The gale stops blowing
    The stars stop shining
    The sun stops setting
    The moon stops rising
    The days stop ending
    The world stops working
    Life stops living and is dead
    Will you still be by my side?

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • Youth

    One of the best things about life is youth. Youth is a bright painting, where the paint hasn’t dried yet. A fresh lemonade, where the ice hasn’t melted yet. A story which hasn’t been told yet. But it will be soon.

    Right now, if I ask you whether one has youth forever, what will you say? Won’t you reply that one grows old with age? That the painting is going to dry one day? That the lemonade will no longer have ice? That the stories will be told? You will. Of course you will.

    I would say that yes, we grow old but we are still young. Youth will always stay with us. Even death can’t take it away.

    Youth means the time when one is young. Childhood. But childhood and youth are completely different. Youth radiates a kind of defiance. Which is vibrant. Youth is very striking like bursts of light. Youth does everything for a reason. A motive. Every action has a deeper meaning. Nothing is what it seems like. Youth will do anything for desire. Youth will do anything for dreams. Youth will do anything to breathe.

    Youth is not only for the young. It is for everyone. It is something abstract that we all feel. When we take risks. When we are light headed. When we forget everything but one. When we see dreams when we are awake. When we are alive.

    Youth is like being alive. Like being in the moment. Like being real. Having a purpose. You’re not alive if you try to talk or act or make a big show of yourself. You’re alive when you don’t do things consciously. When you let yourself run free. Break all limits. When your fish tries to be a bird. And succeeds.

    There is another very important thing that youth is. Youth is powerful. Youth has strength. Youth is moving. When you speak with youth, your speech has an impact on the audience. An impact of will. And this impact is what makes youth, youth.

    Just by looking at someone you can tell if that person is young or old. But don’t judge people by their age. Look at their hearts. And you will find youth lingering everywhere.

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • Vanish Into Thin Air -poem

    My fingers twitched as I saw you
    Wanting to hold on to you
    So that my world would stop spinning
    And be stable

    As I paced forward
    Soon running towards you
    But my eyes betrayed me as
    You ran away

    I ran after you
    For as long as I know
    Before you stopped and you
    Turned me around

    You were blazing then
    I was on fire with you
    We were an “us” right that moment
    When I was blinded

    By the visions
    That actually happened
    You were gone in my blink
    Status: Unknown

    Thought it was some magic
    But magic isn’t this cruel
    To make you go when you were
    Just arriving

    As much as I try to forget
    It keeps coming back
    And I know for sure know why I
    Even remember

    You let go and the world came back
    It was stable
    When you were there but now
    It’ll never be.

    Written by
    Milomi.


  • ME

    I believe that magic exists in the world. Just that some of us expect to see it clearly.

    We all exist in this world. But how many of us are really alive? How many of us notice the smallest of things and find happiness in them? How many of us radiate something brighter than light. Something called life. And this life that we radiate can bring a smile on anyone’s face. It is this light that is the hope to our despair. The good to our evil. The magic to our curses.

    It is just weird that I can see a simple thing like something related to our lives. Something that we all go through. This whole cosmos is connected, though not always in the way we suspect it to be.

    In the same way, what I am writing are just my ideas. Just one way of seeing those things. Don’t let me change you. Let you change you. I think I just quoted something similar to Kung Fu Panda, but let’s put our Kung Fu away right now. And let’s bring ourselves on.

    This blog features my oh-so-amazing thoughts and ideas and pieces and poems and a bit of myself that I have put into this blog. (NOT PHYSICALLY: that would be freaky) It is nothing much, come to think of it. Just a few words woven together. I believe though, that words can look plain, and words can look pretty. (handsome works too… ) Anyway, my point is that words can be woven together with some leftover thin thread. And they can also be woven with thick beautiful golden thread. I prefer golden.

  • Success Differs

    What is success? I’ve been asking myself this question, but I can’t seem to arrive at an answer that satisfies me. Is success achieving your goal; fulfilling your ambition; living your dream? Or is success the end of our journeys; when we are content? Or is success finding the purpose of life?

    Success means different things for different people. There are many people who are, have been, successful in life. Founders, authors, producers, musicians, influences and on and on and on. As I mentioned, everyone has different ideas of success. This is merely mine. I am not right nor wrong. These are just my thoughts.

    I think that there is no such thing as being “successful” in life. The closest we can get to success is losing.

    It may sound weird, but there is not a single time in life when we are not chasing dreams. When we don’t have something to do. When we have given up. Even if we have achieved something in life, we just set the bar higher. We don’t just sit all lives down; basking in glory which is temporary. We will always be reaching out to something which seems impossible. That’s what we do. We try to achieve the impossible.

    If success is achieving all our dreams, we will always be a step lower, a pace slower. When we lose, courage is born. A new will to do it arises. There is a jump in our walk, a smile on our faces, a new bar in life. Losing does a lot. Okay, it makes you angry, but it also turns that anger into action. We always have a “next time we will do it” attitude. And that attitude is what is so important. Losing also helps us to realize that life is not about winning, it is about learning. Whether one has lost or won, one has learned.

    There are times when we just break down. When we cry for dreams that never came true. When we mourn for losses that never came back. When we are torn apart by the success that never came.

    We are torn apart by the success that never came, but what is our success? What is your purpose in life? Don’t live by the success of others. Just because somebody made a world changing invention doesn’t mean you have to. Just because somebody wrote the best books doesn’t mean you have to do too.

    I believe in first asking yourself what success for you is. If you know this you could succeed in your own way. After all when we die, we are just dust in this vast cosmos. After we leave, the least we can do is leave a mark.

    It can be a mark of success that was waited upon. It can be a mark of struggles. It can be a mark of the fact that you worked hard, and achieved your dream only to leave a million more in its wake. It can be a mark of the impossible. It can be a mark of the sleepless nights when you couldn’t sleep, because your dreams woke you up.

    Unless you know what success is, you can’t be successful. To be successful, you need your “something”. And to know your something you need to live. You need to live life like nothing is better. You need to live life like fun can’t be bottled but remembered. You need to be alive.

    We can’t win life. But that will never stop me from trying.

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • Miles Apart- poem

    This is a poem about a couple; who live apart from each other. Both are halfway around the world. Their lives are flooded with problems, but they never forget each other.

    MILES APART

    A laugh escaped as a tear ran down
    A grin shot up as a face felt frown
    Both living lives across the world
    Both seeing futures being unfurled
    One woke up wide, one slept- in bed
    Not knowing where their lives led

    As the dawn dawned, as the prayers prayed
    As the dusk dusked, ends never frayed
    The birds sang a lively song
    Both knew where they belong
    In foreign lands one mustn’t roam
    When one’s heart is at home

    Words could not explain her feelings
    Tears could not push away his meanings
    Ropes could not bring them together
    One could not live without the other
    Destiny had tied them for life
    And yet alone, they lived, they strived.

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • Midnight

    Many of us think of midnight as the classic time for horror stories. Or the perfect time to start a party. Or the time to quietly have a midnight feast. Sure, but what does nature think midnight is the right time for?

    Midnight finds some cities alive and lit, while she finds some lit but lazy. Sure, 31st December’s midnight finds all of us dancing and partying. But what about a normal, random midnight? What happens then?

    This is how I imagine a midnight.

    The owl hoots, the bats screech, the leaves rustle, the branches tweak. Owls and bats swoop around. They do this every midnight, but the thrill that flying brings along never fades. Their eyes glint in the moonlight as they thrust forward to another glint they see. The bats sense things, never seeming to lose their way. They act discreetly, to not startle anybody. However, if we really search deep, a colony of them awaits us. I’ve heard about them biting- so you might want to steer clear of them.

    A cool breeze blows through the forests at midnight. It is not a normal breeze. It seems eery somehow. It brings along the emptiness of the sun and the whole ness of the stars. It won’t hit you in the face, but will pass gently. Still leaving you with shivers down your spine.

    Occasionally the trees answer in reply. The squeak and tweak their branches as one falls down. And yet, despite these sounds, there is a silence that can be heard. A silence which though is deafening, one has to strain one’s ears to hear. A silence which seems natural, but is odd.

    And if you tilt your head upwards, your eyes will feast on a sight invisible to most.

    A sight littered with stars. Stars so close, they are like confetti. The Milky Way would stretch out and twinkle as if waving out to you. The Orion would glisten as if wanting to chase you down. The Great Bear would shine as if you can still ride on him. The North Star would stand out so you can find your way home.

    If you stay there long enough, you might see the moon sidling away. And stars snuffing out. And the horizon clearing up. And the sun rising to awaken the dawn. You might hear the birds sing a different song; that welcomes the sun. If you’re lucky, you might catch the bats as they swoop away as if the sun is a spreading disease, as they fly for shelter. The charm of midnight vanishes slowly, but leaves behind its residue. And these residues give birth to dawn, and bid goodbye to midnight.

    Yet, midnight is never really gone. If you wander deep into the heart of the forests, you might be able to hear a song that nature plays. A song which is lilting and light, but has a dark side to it. A song which yearns for not the sun, but the dawn of the rising moon. The moonflower waits on toes for the moon like how a woman waits for her man to return from a journey. And when midnight comes along every night, some part of the forest sighs in relief. And basks in the coolness. Of midnight.

  • Thrill Of Life- poem

    This is a poem about how one feels after winning. There is a moment as small as it is before we are showered with congratulations and wishes. During which we burst with happiness.

    THRILL OF LIFE

    In that space of time
    When time seems to slow down
    But you keep running
    And you reach your goal
    Time unfreezes and flies
    As you fly as well
    The glow that you radiate
    That beaming light is bright enough
    To set the universe on fire
    And that moment fades away
    In a blink too
    Before life piles on
    And the world comes back
    And you still feel like you are
    Living.

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • If I could live an alternative life how would it be and why?

    Life is like a game of bridge. Our cards are already dealt out. It is up to us to decide how to put them to their best use. Some of us are lucky, and have the trump cards as well as aces and kings and queens. Others have such cards that they can solely depend upon luck to help them. And the rest, they act recklessly, ready to take risks by putting themselves in danger and living with that thrill. It is a fact, and that is indeed how today’s world works. Our ways have already been written down in the stars, it is up to us how high to bid.

    However, I wonder, what if I could have chosen my cards? What if I could have made the game to be just how I liked it to be? What then, would my life be like? I reckon I’d be having the best time ever!

    I would have loved to be brought up in a place other than India. (I am still loyal to India and will always be) An island, it would be. I am yet young, young enough not to know more than a few islands, so any island would do. I think Australia would do best. (It is counted as an island right?). Besides from learning their language and adapting to their culture, I would absolutely love sleeping under a thick blanket of stars, like our ancestors. It was by those very stars did our forefathers know that the rains were coming or that the wild bulls would be on their way soon. Long ago, we humans lived by the stars.

    I would be an explorer, though it’s true this world has already been explored. My parents and I would camp in the densest of forests and sail across the stormiest seas. We would not be afraid of the dark and we’d try to understand the world. Why was it that earth was the planet to bear life, and why is it not possible that other planets bear life too, even though they’re hundreds of light years away? And could there really be something like magic?

    You may think that I am going many a step too far, and I do not deny that fact. What about technology? What about school and studies and phones, computers, laptops and offices and work and money? That can be accomplished. We could be going to school initially and then be homeschooled. That is what many people do. With the aid of technology, we could use natural sources of energy to produce electricity. It is possible to live a fun life as well as having a financial life too.

    As for social media, I have made up my mind. We could become YouTubers by clicking videos of our surroundings and singing songs. We could click photos of those lush green trees, animals and the nature around. I can clearly picture that in my head. We are in the forest, and it is night. We’ve laid out our tent and have lighted a fire. It’s a warm night and there are fireflies flitting about. It is one of those patches of land that is clear from the thickets and bushes with a lovely view of the sky above. There are various eerie sounds, especially that of the owls. The sea is roaring and splashing in the distance. We can’t be called wild, nor are we modern. We’re somewhere in between. Stuck in the middle of reality and realisation. It was not easy to make this choice.

    If I could deal my own cards, I’d be living a dream. I’d be searching for earth’s Narnia. Something which is as ordinary as today, yet as unusual as Wonderland. That magic that is hidden among those boundless seams of life that seem to go on forever. It could be the stars or water or us ourselves. I may be Mad Hatter to you, or even as vague as the Lovegoods, but I love to imagine.
    For magic does exist, and I am certain of that.

    Written by
    Milomi.

  • Ice Cold- poem

    This poem is about how the cold, too has a personality. How cold is world away from summer, but how it can’t be forgotten.

    To see nature in a different dress
    Which is white
    Like somebody sprayed it with paint
    Which comes off by spring
    But lasts through winter
    And it numbs me
    It feels like fire
    Yet is too cold to touch
    It’s worlds away from summer
    Where the sun looks grand among the snow
    As it wakes and sleeps
    As if on a race from winter
    To a place warmer
    While the stars bask in the shivering nights
    As they listen to the howling wind sometimes
    Who cries in rage for
    Company
    And they listen to the defeating silence too
    Which always gets disrupted
    Life still lives while it’s lonely
    It doesn’t fade
    It blooms
    With all its strength
    The pines still stand tall
    Enduring all what life throws at ‘em
    The flowers still pink
    Despite the chattering cold and the numbing winds
    If they’re lucky, a reindeer might check them out
    And nuzzle their nose for a kindly touch
    Or a husky might chase down, pulling a sledge
    And his breath brings warmth along
    Though they can’t hope to be brought inside
    They belong out
    Away from the crackling fires
    Amidst the slamming cold
    And they can call it
    Home.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    ICE COLD