In that world, where we were first introduced I laid my eyes on a poem The beginnings of a blue, tender. We prepared to play you in me, and I learnt Poetry is more than stroking this tapestry- Life? In this world, where beauty is in dawns never meeting Twilights And the pond the sky,…
At a distance, the timeless breaths and shadows stills in the eternal wait and the weight of the world stills in the kites’ cries. The sky, trapped in a drop, turns into a song. In the circles of a ripple, I see my known. There I’ll merge.
the white spirit
It was mid-morning. The realization that all the bridges have been burnt, except for creation’s, crawls out of an uncompromised living; of accrued guilt over not-working; of confusion over the authenticity of the guilt. The wind carried the world’s sadness and the music the call of the world. There was no loneliness. Only absences. There…
Death of ‘nous’
I think we failed to tell us something Something that should have made space Betwixt the silences And yet unbound quietly; come and go Without imprints, without stabbing. But forced silences do not leave space They are louder than words, They stab until I am no more you and you me.
Behold a flawed beauty, If not for its embedded piety, to which the eyes close in reverence For the perfection that was there; that is still there, Look! that is still there!
those settled layers between you and me
Dust from ages gather; thicken and glues to the breath. The breath doesn’t reach existence; it disappears somewhere in between life and living and yet I breathe, yet I exist. The eyes seek to gaze within, to see where the breath disappears. Fingers itch to strip off the layers but they halt halfway, remembering…