A thing went missing from the front of my window.
I couldn’t put a finger on what but it left a gaping hole in what used to be scenic.
Things extinguish more often than not.
Leave us grabbing for what’s lost.
Almost never we know why we are sore.
But sure that we aren’t absolute anymore.
Everytime hope goes, it takes chunks of us with it.
I dreamt of the tree, grande, that had gone missing.
It left me astray though it meant to me nothing.
All things momentary, so are we.
Never cherished while trudging around, only when we finally sleep.
How do you move on from memories to actions;
Stop going along one track and start jumping from one to another.
And then silence falls upon and the noise around becomes so clear;
The quiet, now resides within and has no aim of leaving.
It only knows home in you and you in him.
Three years and you still only love each other.
A solitary tale.
How do you go on from reticence to dancing to someone’s voice.
Continue reading “A Distant Memory.”
Some say the world will end with fire, others say ice.
Stay up nights, thinking which way of going into the light would be tranquil.
Burning up, turning to ashes, finding the ultimate.
Or going out with shivers metamorphosing into frost.
One with raging tumult, other deafening silence.
Quietly passing between a conversation of laboured breaths would be triumph for me;
over screeching while incinerating among a vast blaze.
Choose a spot and look for yourself.
She has no beginning or an indicative end.
Electric vibe and trails of salt,
not just in the sand by the beach but on foreheads of all.
City never sleeps, city never cries;
lost among the crowds, still feel so tied.
Tires you out all through the day; still feels like home, makes you crave.
No place for slow, pace is what it is.
Don’t stop dreaming, neither does she.
We climb up walls so often, without knowing.
Without trying, we keep up the ascent.
But when a brick slips and we lose our grip;
come shattering down, so does our conscience.
Walls, we all have.
All, trying to peek in;
finding niches of loose earth.
A few make it to the top and find the other side not much enthralling.
A scarce number, who clambered their way up and you mounted theirs;
felt like home, determined to stay.
All I wanted was to see a few stars.
Looking up so I could wish upon one?
I’ve asked too much, I see.
All you do is play hide and seek.
What did I do to appal you.
Never wanting to visit, never wanting to peak.
You’ve disappeared like words on bubbles.
I miss the times I could just look up and talk to you.
I hope you know my fondness was true.
I await the time, when you’ll visit again soon.
You used to be a flower with all this love to offer.
When your petals were torn apart, you bit back the tears.
Your blossom now lost and colour all dried up.
You stand wishing to be that cactus in the distance;
Covered in thorns for the benefit of your soul.
Everyday, you dwindle a little more, your beauty wearing off.
The spikes that swore to protect you were cut off by those purveyors,
But when you still had the hope to be appreciated, you were severed like an open wound.
Here, after so long you were picked up, with an intention to shield.
You’ve never been happier;
in between these pages than you were ever, between anyone’s fingers.
Wanting to be grounded but not stuck.
Go places but not be uprooted.
I go around seeing people planting roots in the shoes of one another;
Shedding their leaves by each other’s bedsides.
With us changing shoes back and forth, no time for the radicle to grow;
We carry shovels in our backpacks always.
Each one waiting for that solid ground where it’s all just right;
Just the right Sun and just the same Sultry.
Naive enough, we believe the ground will find us.
Cutting off here and there, must be a chaos there downstairs.
As each year passes, I keep getting close.
Right around the corner, but still a long way out the door.
I’ve tried basing my life upon what is expected of me;
Reminding myself, sure one day I’ll be free.
Reminiscing the good old days, now only fills me with dismay;
Clinging to the past, I’ve fought and worked to not anymore, be a child.
To walk out of the daze where everything was mild.
But, I’ve grown and become.
Learnt to stay, not to succumb.
Inching closer to where I want to be in a few years.
The view from the top, I’m sure will be good enough to bring me to tears.
The road is long and the journey is the destination, after all.
Glorify the wounds, every cut and scrape.
Rumi says, that’s where light enters you.
Sitting here looking at so many on myself, I started out with singing songs about them.
The tunes tried healing, succeeded sometimes.
Even while sitting in murk, hoping for sunshine.
Finding a thin ray of light, basking in it, growing in it.
Desperate for some of it to reach where it is needed most.
The sun lights up the whole sky, never asking anything in return.
But why is it still outside where I go looking for light and not within?