Before The Flood - The Earth Needs Us (To

The worst thing that this world will tell you and that you have told yourself is, "be practical ", "relax".
If human race had been so practical we wouldn't have led our planet to destruction , we wouldn't have manufactured wars , we wouldn't have burnt our daughters and wives at stake , we wouldn't have recklessly fostered greed among our selves chasing money and destroying the earth.
We wouldn't have fed our children with our own fears and incapabilities to date and dream and achieve and believe that what seems a fairytale , is possible .
Fight for the fairytale , it does exist .
If anyone believes , thinks that the mess of our generation can be cleaned , the earth can be saved , the humanity be restored then YES it can ! And it must !
For we are the change.
And relaxing isn't a way to escape , the more we relax the more our children will choke in the smoke of our sins .


Rise , shine , be a kid , mad , passionate , clean .... work hard to leave a better imprint on this world , a clean imprint , spread love and spread life , a voice is enough , an action more than enough . But lets act, lets dream and hope .
For that's the legacy our children deserve !

#nocarbonfootprint
#sorrytopollute #sorrytoearth #ambikawrites #letstalkchange #climatechange #beforetheflood #letscatchdreams #wearethechange #earth #nature #writer #writeupsandblunts #wordsodinstagram #staymad #letsinspire #write #words #action #environment 

I Sung You Like A Verse

I sung you like a verse from a forgotten poem , 
Like a stroke of brush from a faded canvas , 
Like a touch of life in a weathered sculpture , 
Mentioned you like a sacred prayer ...

In the eyes that said a thousand words , 
In the smile that hid the secrets unknown , 
In the hands that held a crisp stone , 
In those seconds , 
I sung you like a verse from a forgotten poem .

I know you saw the sunlight on my face , 
I know you saw my closed eyes as I prayed in oblivion , 
I know you saw the tears that flooded my eyes , 
I saw you stealing me ...
I saw your eyes betraying you .
That's when I sung you like a verse from a forgotten poem .

Do you do these things usually ? 
Do you warm up a cold heart , 
Do you write and conjure words for yourself , 
Do you protect what you deem to be yours , 
Do you let others sing you ...like a verse from a forgotten poem ?

Like air , all pervasive , free , pure , 
I saw you heal me , 
I saw you covering me , 
I saw you holding my baggage while I flew amidst the clouds , 
I saw you letting me play while you watched , 
For all this , for all that , for all it felt ...

-Athena (Ambika) 

The Wrinkled True Love

To all the parents growing old and to the grandparents preparing to be born again. Coz well !  I believe in reincarnation.

“Let me take your wrinkled hands ,
To see the sands of time settled in those crevices,

Let me wipe the corner of your eyes ,
that ooze the light that has long shone over the horizon,

Let me tell you the end of every story you have ever told me
    “There is no better teacher than time
      And no better lesson than failure”

And also let me plead with my little hands ,
DON’T LET YOUR LESSONS BECOME MY COMMANDMENTS ”

©Athena

Why I Left The Officer's Training Academy Despite An AIR 2nd In 1st Attempt ?

http://wp.me/s6fAtP-336

Homes Like Ghettos

In the entire seasons that I spent amidst people called home, most of the times there was silence around the house. Not the peaceful, tranquil quiet but an eerie silence. You see the difference... quietness is just slowing down the fast pace of life , being at peace , and silence is dead... it is like crumbling up on a dark room holding back all the edges of your existence and ur clothes... even the curl of ur toes.

Silence of the ghettos where I could hear the clock ticking and my own hissing heartbeats .

And then there were times, terrible times when the floor of the house smelled of land mines , mines stuffed and your one footstep, ur one utterance of a word would blast the mine ... wounding you and the others in a deep cut... oozing tears of blood , again followed by the silence of the cemetery, where lay buried the happiness, the fluttering giggles of children that usually occupy a home . The happy faces.
And in those days I walked , very carefully ... not wanting  to leave my footprints . I walked on my toes fearing that I may not stir the air , the poisonous air that floated through that concentration camp . Fearing that I may not get strangled and choked on my own tears .

-Athena
#childabuse

Reclaim spaces

http://wp.me/p6fAtP-4I

Spirit of kasol

www.tripoto.com/trip/58938