Triumph

It's milky white, shimmering weak
oscillating gently with the breeze
glistening against the landscape bleak-
arid, barren, devoid of trees

It appears haunting, rather eerie
yet much more gentle than it may seem
Though its expression is rather dreary,
it is dejected, with low esteem

Though it constantly sways with the gusts
that plague its vague and sorry form
it has to linger, it really must,
so it remains and withstands the storm

And slowly, although it takes quite a while
it becomes more solid, embellished by hues,
despite the fact it hasn't advanced a mile
it had gone further, it has grew

It reached the stage when shades so pale
had darkened- solidified, every thread        
Its stature turned from delicate to hale
dim pink turned to a vivid red

From timorous to proud, its head held high
beginning to work with unconcealed zeal,
its aims accomplished, reaching towards the sky
as a nebulous dream ultimately became real

Wintry Heat

First published in "On the Rusk"

Its surface is bathed in pearly light
The air encased by its glistening glow
The wind blows delicately, soft and frosted
until it's felt- the first silvers of snow
The terrain has been transformed from green to white
the sky from aqua to a stormy gray
crystals cascade from above-
the clouds which shield the golden rays
Like sugar- white, sweet and smooth
that coats the branches of the lime green trees,
creatures retreat into their refuge
fear keeping them hidden- of the icy freeze
Within a few hours of the magnificent snow,
on the earth, has been embedded a crust
that shifts and dances like dunes of sand
pirouetting with the glacial, biting gusts
As the clouds parted, sunlight began to shine,
as the snowfall began to slow its pelt
winter defrosted, began to crawl away,
sunshine dominated, the chill began to melt
The air is sweltering, brimming with heat
turning my face crimson from peach
the ground glaring, vivid, radiating warmth,
to cool down- the world would vehemently beseech
Birds fly about, despairing, craving a sip
of the invigorating water, which is now a dearth,
creatures roam for miles, longing to gulp
from ponds, which are now sparse on the earth
The sun beats down with quelling force,
amber commands the sky, rather than blue
The air is unmoving, humid, sultry,
animals covet for the breeze that once blew
Then, gradually, the heat starts to drop,
the shivery atmosphere commences its unfurl,
creatures return to their caves in relief,
as the word is soaked in the light of a pearl

Whirlwind

The waves are gentle, benevolent, lapping
on the other side, thunder resonates, wild and clapping
The sea is unruffled, a calm periwinkle,
whereas the ocean is marred with waves and wrinkles
The sky is vivid, the sun an orb of gold,
in the distance, a storm brews, tempestuous, uncontrolled          
The ambience is delightful, with a muffled breeze,
beyond the bounds, a frenetic gale rouses the seas
Fish of radiant luminosity crowd around,
Distantly, they cower, terrified to make a sound
But at that point, the entire sky went dark
the light had been concealed, every sunglow spark
winds- violent and frosty- pervade the air,
the formerly tranquil sea complies without turning a hair
What hitherto had been a serene, limpid scene,
was now a whirlwind of components aerial and marine
The sky was charcoal, reflected from the clouds,
gusts shriek by, whistling and loud
lightning struck, an iridescent flash
followed by thunder, a rumbling crash
waves, squalls, torrents of rain would swarm,
heading towards land, ruthlessly came the storm

Humanity From Now

The three friends, young and inseparable, laid down on the wooden surface of the boat. It was drifting gently, meandering in no planned direction. The moonlight was soft and splendid, and shone off the rippled waters of the lake. Being a desolated, deserted part of the town, not a soul was about- they had all fallen asleep hours ago. The first indications of dawn were arriving, in the form of purple rays of sunlight. It was an alleviating, quaint atmosphere, but there was a pressing issue on Dale's mind.
'What will the world be like a thousand years from now?'
His friends glanced up, overwhelmed by slumber. Damien, a small boy of about thirteen, replied drowsily-
'It doesn't matter. It won't make an impact on our lives. Why bother and miss out on sleep?'
Dale was immediately angered by his companion's nonchalant response. Didn't the world their descendants would thrive on matter? Wasn't it a circumstance of concern that the world should give heed to? Given the fact that the earth had been alive for over a billion years, wasn't a thousand an astoundingly small number? And Damien was perturbed regarding his 'lack of sleep'.
A flaw in Dales character was his inherent, decisive, adamant nature. His opinion was correct, further discussion was fruitless. It was a trait that his friends thoroughly disliked- especially when it interrupted their own untroubled, tranquil thoughts. So, when peacefully dreaming on a boat resting upon the waters, with not a single disturbance, Dales loud, declaiming voice became exceptionally aggravating.
Taking a deep breath, he began-
'Well, I think that you're all wrong. I-'
'Dale. Please be quiet. I'm trying to sleep.'
The third member of the trio, Darcy, spoke up, petulant and frowning.
Dale turned away sulkily, disappointed that his potential tirade had been punctuated. Lecturing was an able way of venting out his thoughts, but no one ever encouraged him.
So, neglecting his friends' sighs of irritation, he launched into a harangue of his views on the future-
'Don't you think it's childish, how people our age dream about flying cars.. and skyscrapers reaching the moon? Everyone associates "future" with "utopia"- a place of technology, wealth, color and satisfaction. I highly doubt that will ever happen.
In fact, judging by the current plight our world is facing, a growing population reaching tens of billions is very possible. So is global warming- severe melting of the ice caps, uncontrolled flooding, submerging of the coasts, islands, lands at low altitudes... In actuality, there may not even be a world to write about a thousand years from now.'
His friends' interest had been kindled. Damien got up promptly, eyebrows knit.
'That's a cheerful thought,' he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 'But you seem to be missing a crucial point. Have you even noted the progress mankind has made in the last hundred years alone? A century ago, vehicles were still at its infancy, nature wasn't smothered by concrete, and only a fraction of all residential areas had access to electricity! And now look... humans take the advantageous presence of automated airplanes, cars and trains for granted. Man has been to the moon and back! They've sent probes and robots to planets thousands of miles from our world. People fight for their lives during an illness, with modern medical equipment, when previously they would give up hope- believing that all had been lost. And...'
He paused dramatically.
'If the life expectancy of humans has increased by over twenty years in the last century.. and if development stays steady, can you even imagine how long humanity will survive a thousand years from now? Taken from the ideas starring in the books by Isaac Asimov, could man become immortal? The development humanity will make a thousand years later is inconceivable.
And what about improvements in space exploration?'
His face lit up, and he proceeded, unmoved by Dale and Darcy's skeptical expressions.
'People may be able to surpass the limiting extent of the solar system. We could scout new planets, and maybe even use them as an answer to the growing population dilemma! And... we could use stars and other celestial bodies as a solution to the paucity of energy, perhaps from a heavenly body or something similar.. wouldn't that be wonderful?'
Damien's eyes shone with animation and delight, but by then Darcy felt neglected, and needed to air his views.
'I partly agree with Dale, on his relatively.. cynical approach of the future.' he began gravely. 'Though the world is nearing a crisis, it doesn't have to be solely nature that poses a forthcoming threat. What about humans themselves? Two world wars were included during the last century, and the tension and strain it caused between the leading nations still hasn't died down entirely. This is evident from the Cold War, though the magnitude of fear and uncertainty has greatly decreased. Who's to say the world may not be torn apart by war in the next thousand years? Maybe it will just be a sweeping expanse of rugged rocks, nuclear radiations and death? I mean, it's not as if man's greed for wealth and power has been curtailed.'
Damien glowered at his friends. Somehow his delightful reverie of a world of robots and advanced space exploration had been callously crushed by his mature companions.
He stood up with unexpected dignity and said 'Since when has negativity and cynicism ever benefited us? All I can say is.. I hope your musings don't become a reality.'
Fatigue had caught up with him, and he collapsed on his cushion and was sound asleep within a few short minutes. But it took a while for Dale and Darcy to do the same- they could only think if one looming question- what will the world be a millennium from now?