I sit in the pit of every man’s stomach.
I’m not just a fire they mistake me to be.
I’m cold, a blue chill that runs down the spine.
I’m the thin veil enveloping the heat.
I’ve waged wars in every time on earth,
I’ve demolished monsters, men and their kings.
I’m the ocean left untouched, my waves ferocious with the wind.
My arms are made of the searing lava,
destroying everything as it descends.
I’m subdued through a gulp of air,
Only to be fueled by oxygen itself.
I’m dark, bottomless void with no end,
That blinds the best in the game.
I’m that tip of the iceberg
That masks the pain, the hurt or sorrow.
I’m the sole rider in nature,
But I exist in multitude.
Different yet the same in each body,
In every action’s prelude.
I’m found devoid of walls,
in places with or without roofs.
I sit on the table of uneaten food,
And in crumpled up papers lying on the floor.
I’m in a mother’s silence;
A father’s gloom;
An infant’s scream or
Locked doors of a room.
Nefariously floating in the air,
I’m a fog made of doom.
They’ve given me a million names–
Frustration, fury or hate.
The most violent of the emotions,
The one which turns you inhumane.
I’ve existed in the same presence
As the parity between hell and heaven.
I’m the one that ignites trouble and
Leads the trajectory to the end.
For if I didn’t exist on earth,
The men would see no change.
If I didn’t fuel the fire in those hearts,
The world would remain the same.
Written by Anushka Shrivastava for MTTN
Edited by Radhika Taneja for MTTN
Artwork by Apurva Bandyopadhyay for MTTN