Between the breaks in our breath,
We take in,
The sum of all our conceived universes,
Inhaling all we can,
Love, lust, desires and prejudices,
We stretch on and on, forever;
the fields in our head,
Threatening to break at the seams,
We hold on,
To hope, to dreams,
Slowly realizing,
We were born to write,
And we’re dying to tell.

Standing here,
In fields of clover,
All around,
Bathed in light;
All I see is,
Green grass, and this sky,
And then, in a flash of orange,
I remember,
How effortless it is,
To breathe in,
In this beautiful world.

Shine on

Smoke in the air,
Fills up the skies above,
When all the world chokes into emptiness,
Some sole string hums on,
A broken song,
Of a life half lived.

Hungry,
Left only with broken crumbs,
From birds that lost their way home,
Here, we stand,
All together, each alone,
Under the moon,
For a glimpse, between the darkness,
For the stars,
to shine on.

There she was,

masquerading,

to be the wanderlust,

of my desires unmet.

There she was,
Out beyond the mist.
Like a twinkle in the eye,
Burning bright on the seas afar.

There she goes,
Into the folds,
Over ever changing ebbs.
As one-by-one, like a curtain raised,
The stars awake, dotting the skies.
The night sets in, velvet black,
The breeze flows by in slow embrace,
Amidst the ending of a day,
The start of a night,
The clouds gather beyond,
Showering pearly rains.
The air fills the soul delights,
Minds wake free,
the breeze wears, like a perfume,
the drenched earth.
Far into the horizon,
The lights fade off,
the show ends,
in the folds of a night,
With nimble feathers,
along the birds hurrying back home,
worlds apart,
a soul stirs,
From the cocoons of the mind,
A dream is set free. 

So, we sleep in the dark,
tucked away under sheets,
we dream of the bright stars,
dreaming of a world, lives apart.
So, we walk under the shade,
following the rays hopping between the leaves,
wishing for summers in the cold,
all we want is a perpetual spring.

Cobwebs and rainbows

Early dew on cobweb strings,
tempting the wind to shake ‘em off,
trinkets of light fills up the doorways,
and all that’s left, are rainbow hues.
Pretending not to care,
pretending not to know,
caught in the cobwebs of life;
we so easliy let go,
the bright sunshine dripping through the shades.
we so easliy forget,
that we chased the clouds over the hill,
so that one fine day, over the greens,
we would be the rainbows that once filled the skies.

My looking glass

You fill up,

the borders of the mirror,

my life reflects upon.

Within the realms of the looking glass,

that houses my soul,

I find a billion songs scribbled,

all rhyming in words and essence,

to the sounds of your name. 

The air I breathe

Feed me the bullets,

soiled in memories that evaporate,

sooner than early dew under the sun.

Shoot me down,

with the sound of our laughter,

as everything else fades away,

into the glimmer of your eyes.

Turn back my life,

fill it with your breath until it’s a fog of what we are;

slowly rewrite the world I know,

until you become the air I breathe.

Bus-stops on a strange loop.

If you knew it all,
the ultimate fate of those around you,
would you try to change it?
would you accept it?
would you warn them?
Would you want to know?

Like at bus-stops on a strange loop,
Will you wait by?
To things to come by and be,
When you know where the road ends?
When you know when the curtains shall fall?

In life,
Etched, is a soul's work of art.
As in every poet and his muse,
You truly are,
The muse of my soul.

Sunset on the beach

And there was something about that sunshine,
There was something about that sky,
Under the feathery clouds, beyond reach,
There was a heaven, slowly coming into sight.

And there was something about the laughter,
Something about that smile,
Beneath the giggles and the chatter,
Lay entwined, a blissful life.

And there was something about the sunshine,
There was something about the waves,
Out there, beyond the horizon,
Lay a golden dream, fondled by evening light.

Don't call me no hero,
Don't call me no saint.
Don't give me no hope,
Don't give me no pain.
Don't call me no angel,
Don't box me in a name;
Don't bless me no ego,
Don't give me no blame.

Caricatures from a window seat,
Dancing in myriad rays of morning sun,
The road extends on and on,
Onward to home and an infinity beyond.

Between the talks and the walks,
Much is learnt, much is lost,
Hopes rain on, an optimist dreams,
The path leads on to a brighter hue,
Faith reaffirms life, in flames of brilliant blue.

Like a lone bird flying homeward,
We flap on, between light and darkness,
Making impressions out of illusions,
Our dreams become the compass of our ambitions.
We become a sum of all,
Of aspirations, prejudices and moral contexts,
The devil of our nightmares,
The gods of our eternal joys.

The day ends, in crimson delight,
The birds fly back home,
Kissing goodbye to the fading light.
Of promise kept and milestones crossed,
A mental note made,
a deep smile wafts through the soul.

The waters simmer through,
The waves bring in the colors of horizon closer,
A calm settles through,
A slow breeze of content blows,
Soaking up all that's left of a crimson sun.

Stand by me

Stand by me under the rain,
Hold my hand while I hide my tears.
Wade me through my fears,
Wash me off my pains,
Stand by me, as I fade in your words,
Stand by me, as my world fades into yours.

The Truth about january.

The solstice passes,
and the light begins it's return,
slow, cold and bare and pure.

Bitten by the cold and shaken out of our veins,
hope, like the evergreen,
wears it's coat of frost,
as if it were made of diamonds.