Home

An empty mind,
Reminds of the long winding path,
Left behind-
And all the smiling faces that bear no spite.
Fragments of old memories,
Come back as whispers
That hang-
Now suspended in disbelief.
Happiness was there then-
In life-
Unsought- un-treasured.
Now, as I see all my cloudy castles crumble,
I yearn for the warmth of my known hearth-
That perhaps bore the only heart I'd ever known.
Yet- I remain confused-
As to what is it that I miss exactly,
When oft I let my thoughts drift homewards-
My cynical eyes,
See a purpose behind all reason.
I know I long for the comfort of my own space-
The sanguine tranquility
That would make me trespass my own nostalgia.
The walls would reel back-
All the peals of laughter,
Shared with my brother so loved-
As would project all images of horror-
We struggle to delete.
Dormant emotions,
Make an attempt to shine again-
But scared conscience,
Reign them in.
Watching life and its many episodes
Crash around and pass me by-
Home, is where my heart aches to be-
Secure and tucked away
From everything
Sans expectations from the Sands of Time.
Or perhaps, forget about perils,
And cherish the innocence of the baby
Much adored and dreamt of-
Watching her grow up and spread her wings.
Poised to fly-
The poison of wait,
Is a regression that sets in a depression-
Where the booms and slumps
Become intense in their frequency-
As waves of longing clash all over me.

Archetypes

The duality of all strange moments,
Makes my head hurt with all the data stored.
As I rethink and replay-
Mind-map and piece together all comprehensions-
To arrive at a different conclusion each time.
Examples of truth and lies,
Color my auditory horizon -
The cynic-
Believes in none-
Yet the foolish in me wants to hold on.
Question arises - as to what-
For I see a sea of loss-
And an ocean of tears-
That would shatter all fall.
Truth begets truth,
I have heard -
When will the known face,
Change its colors-
And the real archetypes show in their gory glory?
Perhaps, I seek a rushed end-
To hush matters deep inside-
Suffocate the pensive pansy
My thoughts radar off to.
I seek a shelter-
Away from my own mind-
To run away from all my thoughts,
As they bleaken my self-worth-
The irony of the duality,
Irons my ire,
Yet iron clad brain-
Refuses to see past its blindness-
To the cool rays of logic-
That otherwise suffuse my heart.
Duality in mind too,
I waver-
At the shyness of incompletion-
Or mayhaps,
Its just a fear of being fooled and alone again.

Only You

Every moment spent together,
Is a lifetime earned in a heartbeat-
Precious and irreplaceable-
The memory pearls get brighter with
Images of us free and happy.
Everytime, our hands entwine,
Is life pulsating anew in me.
Our touch stretches across eons,
To other known and unknown terrains-
Where we must have been bonded before.
Two parts of one soul-
Twin pieces of one heart.
The smiles are real,
That touch eyes and reach to hearts,
Tearing through all facades-
And when I let my head lean,
On your support-
I see eternity stretch before me.
Curling up to you,
Is home for the lost-
Your hands, my shining beacon of light.
Love, is only what I know-
I feel for you-
Unbeknownst and careless of reciprocation.
Selflessness is a first and a primary drive -
That push me towards you.
To see your puerile joy-
Is my heart's utmost delight-
My prayers come true-
At the rumble of your laugh.
I dream of our days,
Together or navigation in solo-
Through time, space and its many possibilities.
Soul-soother you,
You bring me the spark I miss to complete me.
My mirror, where I seek my reflection-
And not afraid of the creases  -
When I look into your eyes,
I feel the ground sure beneath me
As you stand the tallest as my shade.
There is a reason for us to meet-
Either to complete or compete-
But I've never known a love
So deep.
Loving you-
Seems a religion almost,
As to you, I belong.
With passion so powerful,
And obstinance negating obstacles,
This crazy love seems a story of miracles.
Every thought bud of you,
Is a second savored in relish-
And a prayer uttered heavenwards-
Thanking eerie fate -
As you soon become the oxygen,
I fight for sustenance on.
Your hold on me-
Magical and indefinable in its strength.
Your presence in my life,
Is an affirmation of all goodness
That constitutes dreams.
The sun among all the stars,
You illumine my frail being-
Making it difficult each day-
To turn my back to my treasure-
And move along against the flow of the tide.

Counting Stars

Silent eyes look up pensively,
At the black clouds,
Scathing the black velvet of the night.
Faint starshine glimmers paths bright-
While yellow beams of the many bulbs,
Reflect back at the rain pools on the road.
The cool breeze whispers by,
Like a soothsayer,
Strangely soothing spirits sane.
White fingers hug the mug tighter,
Sipping more urgently at the hot black liquid-
Letting it slash in through to her gut-
Warming her from within.
Squaring shoulders,
The faintly moist eyes,
Stare harder at the empty stones,
Looking for shadows.
The clock in the distance,
Strikes a 3 at dawn-
The blackness gains a blue ring-
As crows begin spreading their wings.
A half smile at the food untouched-
Like so many nights now,
Purple soled feet rise from the stairs,
And make way in through the door unlocked.
Alarm set for 6,
Head rests against the pillow-
Yet wild thoughts run amok.
A queer serenity bestows its light sheen on the form,
As the many ponderings, start counting stars.
The sated mind states the small moments of joy-
Captured and cherished-
As the real plays the reel-
At an unhurried pace when time freezes in its own gravity.
With closed eyes now,
And a lingering smile,
Cocooned in gratitude,
Of some precious time spent-
With the one so loved.
The soul feels lighter,
And expects nothing more-
Refuses to look forward to the bleakness ahead-
That must await as an eventuality.
But prefers to live by love,
Through the moments earned now.
Absence creates a void deeply felt
And an emptiness that becomes a physical handicap.
But when logic prevails,
It tells, that it must be so-
Like this- later-
And that one must get used to its sting,
And not think.
A conscience acts as a fulcrum now,
With a selective bias,
Gleaning the happiness to be used as cud-
When ruminated on later in the deep.
But sorrow or its greyness feel distant-
As the fulcrum chooses to believe
That life must go on
Sans expectations worth shattering.
Happiness bubbles in the spirit now,
As its glow radiated from every pore-
Surety of the 'now' beseeches the core-
And that's mayhaps all that's required anyway-
When sustenance is not what the inner being seeks.
For the choice was never in the hands of the fulcrum's.
It all lay elsewhere-
In another's hand-
To be vested or wasted at will.
But ironically,
The shards of all such broken thoughts,
Pierces none.
As in actuality,
The mind seems quite made up-
To travel a year later-
And not pay heed to much
What catches the ear,
Or the eyes see anymore.
For belief is sanctimonious-
And faith's handle parsimonious.
The sanctity of age too,
Isn't vintage-
Logic must address foolhardiness-
As the steps must drift into oblivion.
To be returned not-
But remembered with pride and a smile-
With love of a beloved.

White Flag

Sometimes,
As I lay my hurting head
On the pillow-
And let loose my locks.
I ponder about the travesty of tryst.
Worry creases the brow,
As eyes glisten with the fate unwarranted.
Is it all worth the ride?
Staring at the hopeless mortars
Of the crumbled wall-
Where my soul met with its dead end.
Pieces of grey and soot-
With minced bricks,
Pierce senses into an unpleasant lull.
Sometimes,
I let my eyes overlook
The debris.
As I find a new spot in the wall-
To focus energies on.
Yearning for some fortified hope-
With pearls of positivity,
That seems so elusive today.
Wonder what's the happy giggle like-
Which was aplenty when young.
As the years pass,
And the moments melt into nothingness-
Life seems unproductive and jargon-laded.
Potholes and pool,
Where infest the evil,
Stare with their mouths open,
Tempting the great fall.
I let my mind-
Forcible wander-
To other planes where perhaps colors reign.
Lose myself in my own spasms of Moksha,
Which I summon to end the greys.
For I cannot always choose the middle path
To walk on as life passes me by.
I must select a time for the end-
Which must bring peace to this fever.
I cannot always let my ego be hassled,
When the id only plays second fiddle,
Trust caressed and shattered by the other shadow-
As panes of a known face seem strange.
I raise my hands-
Wave the white flag-
Of surrender and serenity-
My mind thirsts for a burst of Nirvana -
A callous indifference to all deeds.