The Descryptic Corner

Poems, love, and life - Descend into this poet’s true Descryptic Reality of Fiction

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"With the lazy curls wafting off the coffee cup, fogging the glasses with the morning dew, pervading the atmosphere with the cinnamon spice, the spindle of time melts into the echoes of laughter and sombre silence." - Hardik Joshi, a weary seafarer in the hollowed Mundus.

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The past is a reminder of the beautiful possibility of what could have been.

However, the past is also like an ocean drowning you in a ravaging stream of sensations cocooning your heart. That heart has to open up even though it feels like ripping off a bandaid from a wound.

The more you give, the less you lose. Give it a chance the next time.

Life's too short to dream and too long to regret. You gotta move one.

Think of her smile glinting through your eyes. Your heart skipping a beat when she looks at you with her blonde hair cascading down her freckled forehead.

Her deep, amber eyes boring into yours while the honeyed scented aroma pervades the air.

In that moment, you reaffirm your connection to yourself.

There are always shadows bounds to be present near an iridescent illuminating source of warmth.

It is your choice to stop the wound from festering any further.

Keep fighting the noblest of fights. You'll make yourself proud again.

Written by: Hardik Joshi, a weary seafarer in the hollowed Mundus.

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The moon beckons its dark mistress - Hardik Joshi, a weary seafarer in the hollowed Mundus.

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Musings of a melancholic soul - Hardik Joshi, a weary seafarer in the hollowed Mundus

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Wait, rest, recharge. Glutton yourself in a long slumber around a little bonfire that warms your soul. Then start walking again. Stroll and tread slowly and not at a brisk pace. Continue on the path trodden by many but understood by none - Hardik Joshi, a weary seafarer in the hollowed Mundus.

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During my stay at the monastery of love, I learned plenty of life-changing lessons, but more than that, I finally achieved some sense of closure. My life’s pattern had been a collage of moments of grief, anguish and melancholy. However, my experience as a monk allowed me to write a satisfying epilogue to my imperfect narrative of the adventures of life. Despite my flaws and the blemishes on my soul, I feel fulfilled. Painting on the beautiful canvas of life with the symphonies of peace and sorrow. Staining the tapestry of the gazing abyss with the iridescent hues of the embers of my scintillating soul. So, I approach the end of my spiritual journey with my head resting in the verdant, velvety meadow with undulating blades of grass surrounding me under the blanket of the gyrating sea of stars - Hardik Joshi, a weary seafarer in the hollowed Mundus.

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My life is a mosaic of wants and regrets, contentment and pain, silence and symphony, yearning of life and inevitability of death - Hardik Joshi, a weary seafarer in the hollowed Mundus.