It howled at night in the pitch-black jungle. It wanted to spring upon its prey, Upon hearing the prayer. Oh! It was a calling. It possessed the man to commit the act. The possession is real, oh, it's true! The urge is real, the thirst too. He's a conniving man now! He turned towards the moon and smiled. He pulled his claws and wings out, And flew towards the moon. Oh, the beast it was. He got hold of a branch and moved forward; Branch by branch and tree by tree; Moved till the end of the trees. At the sight of lotus pond. He stretched to grab the flower he loved. In the water, when he saw himself. Astonished, at his reflection. For the Demon he was. All along the way, was I always a demon? Is my bad myself as the good is me? Am I demon to act the thought? Is the good thought-not-act? He growled and cried for his own reflection. The guilt killed his mind, ah, the tears. The appearance too; unwatchable! Turn me back! He growled. But can he? Or will he change the act done? The devilish deed and demonish greed. The wantings of urge and pure need. Now he is all the demon's feed. The demon jumped out, sprung out from him. Left him crying at the pond, laughing hard. The man on his knees, crying out loud. But would he know it left? Would he ever again dare to see in the pond? Could he ever have a glance at himself? Will he realise that it was not him? That it was the demon. And the demon? Just part of his mind's jungle. The one that hides and attacks when called. The actions! It possesses them hard. The thoughts however, not! It is the thoughts that call it out to act open. The man could have controlled the call. But did he? He gave himself to it. He sold the soul to the demon. Now he gets what he asked for, the eternal guilt. The burden of the thought; that unasked act. That could have passed away; the thought. But it did turn into an act. The unforgettable. The un-passable. Quite natural. But still is, Not-allowed! Is never. No, No. No.
One Last Puff
Just this one time, one more puff before I come clean;
Now, I have been saying this to myself from ages and years.
Soon the days became years and the years became aeons,
But the never-ending desire to want more remained.
The wanting of one last puff! The haunting of one more puff!
The night has come, and the people have gone to the slumber.
Lost in thoughts and utterly alone, my mind went numb.
Remembering the sad events, remembering the days I cried;
I can’t remember a shoulder I leant, except for the blurry smoke.
For it was there when I cried, it was there when I laughed.
Little did I know that it’s a venom that I ingested.
Making my emotions linked and chained to it;
I have made it my master and had become its slave.
I thought I had control and believed to be its owner.
Before I knew that the tables have turned,
I had already lost all my control! Submitted to the demon!
I have sold my soul to the smoky devil;
The devil of delusions; imagery of happiness.
I thought I’m done with it, the moment I realised.
But it still deceived me in every moment ever.
Knowing that it controls me, I had done many rebellions.
But all came to the same end by submitting to it again.
I told my friends and caretakers that I’m done with this poison.
My assurance had turned to lies, and so did gone their trust.
Hard for me to trust myself, for it is me that was deceived.
Every night I say to myself, I’m relieved of the possession;
Every day I wake up to the thoughts, one last time and again never.
From the first ‘last puff’ to the last ‘last puff’, been thousands of it;
Seen me shamelessly, deceiving myself once again, forever.
For every first puff, I hate myself, for every last puff, I crave more.
Will this loathing ever end? Will there be one true last puff?
Cannot say. Because I don’t know. Lost trust in myself forever.
I hope the last puff will remain the last one.
But I wish that someone put a chained restrain,
For I fear that I will want yet another last puff.
The smoky demon is in the air, and my brain calls it,
I wonder when comes the day when I will truly slay.
I wanna come outside and breathe fresh air,
with no thoughts of, that one last puff!
Quest and Crusade of Manu, III
Chapter three: Confrontation with the demon
Click here for Quest and Crusade of Manu, Chapter One
Click here for Quest and Crusade of Manu, Chapter Two
Manas walked back as Manu saw a shadow.
Gulping his fear, he remained unmoved,
even when the shadow grew bigger and clear.
Never did he closehis eyes, they were so open.
Out came the beast with its sparkling red eyes.
Surprising to Manu, it was just a wolf.
But a wolf like he had never seen,
for it is so big and fierce.
Saliva dropped through its jaws, and its walk was weary.
Clearly, he can see that it has gotten a lot older.
Even being a wolf, it was big and full.
Maybe demons are just images of animals.
He sat on his knees and started looking at it.
O’ demon full of hunger,
have you ever seen God?
Is he cruel and bad for the deeds he had done?
Why the need to kill us all,
his dear creation.
Is it not best not to create us at all?
The beast was irked; close it came and growled so hard.
Neither did he fear nor did he hesitate,
answer me quickly before you eat, he yelled.
It irked it more and made it pounce on him.
Grabbing his neck, it dragged Manu,
as he screamed with the pain and bled through his throat.
Are you just a beast who has fully grown?
Will you do not die if I tried to kill?
He faintly asked before it chewed his arm.
The bite freed his arm, and he was quick on legs.
Picked up a stone and he pierced it in its eye.
Squealed the beast with bleeding eye,
And Manu knew that this was just an overgrown beast.
Numb felt his arm, but his neck was at pain.
Gathering his wits, he stabbed its other eye.
Angry but old, the creature pounced blind,
only to miss the target and become vulnerable.
Manu lifted a rock and smashed its head.
Crying with pain, he peeled its skin.
Cleaned his wounds and tied them with its hide.
Dragged it to the cart and started pushing it down.
He went down the hill, gathering his fainted breath.
He felt he was to faint and wise was his thought.
He kicked the cart hard and jumped on top of it.
Falling on the sliding carriage, he fainted out of mind.
The cart hit the gates of the tribe, and Manas saw it fall.
Opened his eyes in a medic’s hut, Manu saw the tribe,
that gathered him around.
The smile was there, and the love was spilling out.
They lifted him out and jumped with joy.
They called him the gift of God and worshipped him so.
They never listened to his words that said,
it was just a beast.
He was soon flowered with gifts,
offerings of food and pleasures.
He rejected them smoothly and hated their thought.
He knew it was mere luck, the beat grew old and weak.
In search of gods, he had become one.
But glad was he not for the holy treatment.
The prayers seemed blabber and the people so foolish.
You need not a god, but a hunter with a sword.
Taught them his skills, made them wooden swords.
He set foot once again to find his real questions.
True peace is what I look up to,
and not ignorant bliss.
I will remember you forever and ever,
for you have been more than my family.
He parted his ways and waved goodbyes.
He rode on the donkey, they also gifted him some rice.
He set foot once again, to quench his questions,
which just grew in number but not one solved.