Our Heaven is Here, Our Hell is Here

What if heaven and hell aren’t places you go after death, but consequences you create with every action?

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For those who look up to the skies with searching eyes,

look all around us, our heaven is here, our hell is here

They are all liars, the holy ones with their beseeching cries,

they do not seek your salvation; they simply do not care

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When you smile with joy, seeing a lovely piece of art,

the beautiful flowers of heaven, you can indeed smell

When jealousy scars your soul and burns your pure heart,

you can feel the searing heat of the flames of your hell

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When you taste your lover’s kiss and her warm embrace,

the cool breeze of heaven surrounds your whole being

When betrayal murders your ego and brings you disgrace,

the fires of hell consume you without you ever seeing

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When you choose to be kind without any expectation,

the rain clouds from heaven drench you with humility

When you are selfish and within reach of damnation,

the serpent of guilt suffocates you with sheer hostility

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When you hold a tired hand much in need of your help,

your heart becomes heaven, filled with His affection

When you hit a dog without any care for his yelp,

the poisonous scorpion of Karma makes its own selection

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There may come an end, there may be a judgment day,

you may be judged by Him; He may be kind or merciful

But when you make a choice, you always have to pay,

you may create an ugly hell or a heaven so beautiful

Am I Good Enough for You? (A Mini Opera)

galatea_and_polyphemus_by_thesecondbus_d7y0cde-fullview-1

This is the final dialogue between the miserable and desperate Polyphemus, and the idealistic Galatea - the helpless lover and the arrogant nymph.

Myth says that once upon a time, even before the birth of time itself, the Cyclops Polyphemus saw Galatea, the nymph, and fell in love with her. But there was a dilemma as he was large and ugly, while she was a perfect beauty. No matter how much he loved Galatea and no matter what he sacrificed for her, she did not accept his love. Finally, doomed and cursed, Polyphemus threw rocks at Galatea and her lover. As a punishment, he was transformed into a river destined to flow amongst the wild mountains forever - alone and miserable.


‘With a heart filled with love and my words so true,

am I good enough for you?

With my mind fixed on you and my soul without a clue,

am I good enough for you?’

He asks Galatea while the shadows of doubt line his single dark eye.


‘No, I am afraid not!’ She smiles at him coldly, untouched by his bitter misery.

‘No matter how hard you try,

you may scream or you may cry

No matter how long you try,

you may bleed or you may die

You’ll never be good enough for me

No matter how high you fly,

you may kiss the earth or may reach the sky

No matter how sincerely you pry,

you may shout or you may sigh

You’ll never be good enough for me’


‘But what if I change, and what if I transform?

What if I become the sunlight after a storm?’

He pleads with eyes filled with all the sadness in the world.

‘No, still no!’ She replies adamantly with steely resolve gleaming in her blue eyes

‘Even if you change and even if you evolve,

from a thorn to a rose, you may transform

Even if you become godly,

and God Almighty Himself approves your form

You’ll never be good enough for me

Even if you evolve

to all my rules, you may conform

Even if you become Adonis,

and loving you becomes a norm

You’ll never be good enough for me’


‘And why is that so?

Why a strict adherence to status quo?’

Looking down, he asks, dejection underlining his desperate whisper.

‘Well that’s a good question.’ She looks at him with pity.

‘You don’t matter,

and you don’t matter at all

Whatever you may do,

either very big or just very small

You may bang your head,

against a high stone wall

You may bloody your fists,

you may stand or may even crawl

Whatever you do is useless,

and you will always fall’


‘Then what should I do?

For my love is so true!’

Polyphemus raises his arms and begs till he is hoarse.

‘That is but for you to decide!’ Galatea decrees with finality — her voice etched in stone.

‘You may die a lonely death,

or you may burn forever

You may fade with the harsh wind,

or you may pray to whomever

You may make great plans,

or you may do something clever

You may aspire big and grand,

or you may rise to whatever

Whatever you do is hopeless,

and I will be yours, oh never!’


‘Silence! You, the wretched lover!

Silence! Yo,u the arrogant queen!’

The skies go dark, and the voice of Zeus booms from above.

‘Quit this nonsense, let your arguing be done

Love is a godly trait, and not a race to be won

You are both mistaken, individually and as one

You are both misguided; logic is what you shun

The capability to love is what’s desired by everyone,

an unfulfilled dream, under the moon and the sun

Polyphemus! You can love, you will be a god in the long run

Galatea! For denying true love, my blessings for you are none’

 

God, the Grand Cupid

God looked down at two shattered souls drowning in separate sorrows and decided to play Cupid - because sometimes the cure for one broken heart is another.

A dual-narrative poem that follows two devastated individuals - a woman carrying a vault of sorrow and a man wandering the dark path of regret - until divine intervention brings them together in a transformative moment.


There she is, looking so young yet so old,

with a spirit, which was once so reckless and bold

There is still beauty, but only a shadow remains,

her strength survives, too, but is bound by chains


Trace within her soul, the dried pathways of salt,

she has been saving so many sorrows in her vault

Map each contour, map each line on her cheeks,

go ahead and ask her, what is it that she really seeks?


Perhaps, she hopes for bliss and a better future?

as her present is pus leaking from an open suture

Perhaps, she hopes for happy days to come,

as her past belongs to regret, all dark and glum


Look deep into her eyes, rivers of pain, black and grey,

they are silent, the foam of desire, subdued each day

They keep flowing over their bitter beds of loss,

marked by boulders of guilt, covered in rotten moss


There he is, tired and walking a lonesome path,

the rage has left his spirit, and absent is his wrath

He walks behind regret, while pain closely follows,

he is a lost soul, wandering in the grey hollows


The harsh, cold wind mourns the dead pigeons,

there is no salvation, no gods, and no religions

He is oblivious to all and is ignored by all,

his legacy is a broken ego; respect is his last call


He is a volcano gone dead, to all who care to see,

his soul is a vast desert, devoid of blessing, yet free

There is no fire, only ice in his marble heart,

while he eternally waits for the rains to start


Shattered into a million shards, dreams he once had,

he has lost forever, his character, his good, and his bad

To him, happiness and joy are all illusions and smoke,

to him, ecstasy and calm are nothing more than a joke


Time and patience play the sweet harp of change,

God looks down at the two souls, lost and so strange,

He feels the void in their souls, sees their dreams all furled,

with a kind and worried frown and his fingers all curled


‘Let there be light in their miserable and dark life,

let the angels play their magic, their merry fife

I won’t let their dreams die, be extinguished like this,

let their suffering finally end, let them get some bliss’


Boom! There is a great thunder up in the lofty skies,

across a chaotic throng they stand, amidst shouts and cries

There is a sudden flash of light, and they see where they stand,

they run towards each other, and he grabs her waiting hand


His loss kisses her loss and tastes empathy so deep,

they make a golden promise, forever to nurture and keep

Her grief caresses his grief and turns to sheer pleasure,

to love and to cherish, becomes their eternal treasure