Don’t assume

Never tell a soldier, that he does not know the cost of a war

Never tell a lawyer, that he does not know the value of a lie

Never tell a woman, that she does not know real pain

Never tell a poet, that he does not know heart break

Never tell a child, that he does not know innocent play

Never tell the poor, that they know not the hunger and struggle

Never tell them your presumptions, for you don’t have their eyes

Or their heart…

-Prathik Rao 

Am I?

I am a God,

Why should I be not?

Like a mother

I birth each word,

Like a father

I structure and place.

Out of nothing

I construct these lines,

Into nothing

I toss them Still.

I hope, but only

For them to be

My lasting Legacy

With a gilded edge.

Am I a God,

With a simple dream?

Or a bard,

With a fruitless vision?

-Prathik Rao

Ode to the Darkness

In darkness, I lie

Measured by the drop,

The cold tentacles pry

My scarred soul out.

I lay so still

By the hollow rivers,

Filled with souls

Only a passing face.

What was I?

I know not.

Whence was I?

I remember not.

I feel no pain,

I feel not agony,

The darkness engulfs

The oracle’s scales,

And the weights weigh

Down on account of sympathy.

I died for another’s God,

And the world doesn’t know my Name.

-Prathik Rao

Wax in the Chasm

A poet is a candle,

Burning at an end,

Lighting up the corner,

slowly Melting away.

Drip by Drip I fill

the empty chasms of the hold,

filling the cavity

I leave my little mark.

The flame is now Warm,

With tiny flickers I glow;

Thinking the world of Me

For lighting up a corner.

My thoughts are the wax,

My works are the flame,

While I fade and melt away

My Remnant remains.

In solitude I remain,

My flames now dead,

I remain in the hold,

As Wax in the Chasm.

-Prathik Rao

The Vacuum Within

The Vacuum within

Sucks my Heart dry.

The singularity falls,

And floats within.

Like a teacup,

On a tiny saucer,

But useless was it

With no Tea within.

Though blood rushes

Through my thin veins,

My heart is empty,

No feelings within.

My eyes turn to the Heavens,

And drops waters in concert

With the Towering Clouds

To hide my weakness.

Amongst company I’m alone,

Contemplating emptiness

For what is company

Against the vacuum within.

-Prathik Rao

A Journey Never Ending

Life is a Journey

Between two Lovers,

Far apart they Stand

Staring into each other’s eyes.

It is all that exists

Between “Birth” and “Death”,

Death- the grumpy Lover,

Birth- the forever giver.

Death stands in the Dark

With a peaceful rage,

Birth being of such Nature

Sends countless Gifts.

As Birth sends these Gifts,

Death keeps them Forever,

Never to return, forever kept,

Till they meet unto nothingness.

For Life is nothing but this,

A Journey Never Ending.

-Prathik Rao

So was he

That Sun-kissed cheek,

A lack of shade,

The young man searched

For anything nice.

His throat so parched,

And a tummy so loud,

He sat from the sun,

On a burning ground.

He waited so long,

With Hope none at all,

He had succeeded

And yet he failed.

He paid for sins,

Not his own,

Ancestors suppressed

But so was he.

His fault, that he was born,

To the wrong people.

A genius now lost,

For he was a Brahmin.

-Prathik Rao

Chaos Of Man

Brilliance of mind,

but derived,

Into the gyre of society,

Lost in purity,

Life dwells in the stony hearts

of God’s sons.

Created by one measure,

Built on by a pleasure,

reflected on Nero’s guests,

visible in religious conquests.

The stony heart of Man,

wasn’t meant to clan.

In sword did he trust,

In the Titan’s honor was he thrust,

In fire he saw hope revived,

In his wrath but none survived.

Chaos of Man, Puzzle of God,

A story Untold, I begin to Prod.

-Prathik Rao

The importance of Signification

The greatness of the great
Separate it from the rest.

What would sand be,
If it does not build dunes?
What would sound be,
If it does not create tunes?

What would time be,
If it does not run away?
What would death be,
If it does not pull away?

What is strength
If you feel it not?
What is fear
If it scares you not?

The heart of a man does not count,
His actions make him significant…

-Prathik Rao

A Vacuum Infinite

Engulfed, I sate
In a vacuum Infinite…

Who am I?
Bloody hell, who am I?
You, Oh God! Tell me
Who am I?

Am I someone’s friend
Trusted to be a shoulder?
A joker in a gay mood,
Or a shield keeping foes away?

Am I that old lover
Decorated by those kisses?
Smelling of an exotic flower,
Am I just to please the missus?

Am I a mad poet,
Surrounded by the sane world?
Loving all the hate?
Boring the bored?

Who am I?
Bloody hell! Who am I?

-Prathik Rao