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Quote by Shunya

“There was a sage who was expert in herbal medicines. With great difficulty he once procured a rare seed which, as per his intuition, could cure any disease. He planted the seed. After 12 years of extreme hardwork, the tree yielded nothing but poisonous fruits. How could he let go of 12 years of investment? So he started nurturing the tree more and more in hope of turning it into the elixir it was supposed to be. The poison of tree started entering into his blood now. He was about to die. Luckily a disciple came to visit him and destroyed the tree. A couple of years later, during a casual walk into jungle, he found a full grown tree with fruits that could cure any disease. Let go of relationships or projects that turned out to be poisonous or dead. Your investment will come back to you in the form of luck.”

Quote by Shunya

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Shunya

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“There are things I can confess only after swallowing a bottle of ink. How i crushed a moth between my palms before it rushed to the fireplace. These hands that are used to killing things midflight. Like my mother tongue. Before I can roll out my rounded R and O. Because women like me are believed to practise witchcraft and blackmagic. We swallow men and spit out their bones. These hands that danced with your ghosts on the bluest 4 AMs. These hands that raised a knife to its throat. How deep was the longing to be nothing more than an empty bed, an empty room. If someone asks you tell them writing was the closest I came to witchcraft. Poetry was the closest I came to being possessed. I wanted to leave behind more than emptiness so I wrote. . They say it takes 7 seconds for the eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. I glide across the dark room like the light was never here. Your body imprint on the mattress lost to the frenzied waltz of sunray and dust. How easy was it to just grab a handful of you before you dissolved. If someone asks tell them loving you was the closest I came to seeing god. . On some nights I open the curtains and you are the moon. I am the darkness surrounding it. Which is to say I don't know how to love without being consumed. If they ask you tell them remembrance was the closest I came to being sick. . Once I met a homeless man who spoke in madness because he had forgotten his mother tongue. How long do you hide yourself from the world before you forget your beginning. Like him - I too am full of silence. My beloved - a handful of you, your body. There are things I could only tell the moths but they no longer visit. I have put off the fireplace. Which is to say they too don't know how to love something that won't kill them. . My phone always autocorrects I love you to I live you and what is love if not living the other person. One summer afternoon our bodies turned into each other's. Your breath played lye strings on my neck. If they ask you tell them that was the closest I came to being alive.”

“How Love Leaves You There is no telling how you will love when you do, if you will let it consume you or free you. If love is a chain-link fence or a pair of wings. If love comes on a Monday morning or a Sunday afternoon. Who knows what gifts or sorrows it will bring? But we all know the story of how love leaves you, if you think back to when it last left. And if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. How love never really ends. How your heart breaks the same way it beats, again and again, and again.”

“She, that witch Julie, brought sunshine into my shadows. She was a vessel of light that had sailed down from the highest stars. In those days, I had no idea that women were made from pain. Now pain is all I know. I play music all the time. This music transforms words into tears. Agony floats on this pool of sorrow. It defies the motion of the planets around the sun.”