the fog descends
night turns to day
darkness gives in to blur
we waited for the sun
within the blankets
listening to adele,
the sun never came
we never got out
and kept searching
for the sun inside each other
and the warmth too
It wasn’t a nice day
but we made it one.
This haze
like a beautiful maze
has been staring
might be caring
for why I am sleeping
and not keeping
the promises I made
turned them as facades
but is it too late?
or maybe is it the fate
I ask and collapse
for all dreams and the gaps
for one more time
alas ! a dozing sigh
reality defeated again
and nothing to gain
or maybe we can?
maybe not too.
You can easily write
about the love you feel,
the pain you endure,
of fantasies that immerses you
for hour and hours
about the beasts that scare you,
or a war you never took part in
or the plague that took over the world
and the the aftermath
but even after writing all this,
if while trying to write
about yourself and your life
mirroring your own thoughts,
if words fail to come out,
then you have a long way to go,
a lot to write,
and think about.
The most complex jigsaw
is the heart beating within us.
every piece of it is built of
the people around us
it holds their memories,
their faces
and maybe a part of their
soul.
they complete the puzzle
but everything has to fit,
for this puzzle to
work,
for the heart to beat,
for us to remain sane.
but it almost never happens
we only keep drifting
looking for pieces to fit within
in a hope to be complete
and that is why it is the most complex
jigsaw puzzle every made.
I could drag love stories
from my heart,
remember someone I used to know
from the strands of memory
and the blur of my dreams
sew a love story
and gift you this Christmas
but I won’t ,
I don’t want to.
Maybe I am too weak
to go all through this
again
or too strong
to poison myself with such emotions.
in a failed attempt
for love doesn’t fascinate me now
but days are left still
so you all can wait
for a change of heart
while I just wait sitting
for the snow.
I do have a fascination,
with the stars and moon
but what keeps me glued
to the sky
is the crescent
waiting to complete full round,
amidst tinges of white glowing stars
It’s never perfect
or maybe it is not meant to be
though incomplete,
it still draws attention
and tells me
that it is okie to be incomplete,
one day will still stand out
among all the stars
when the sky is clear.
It makes me somewhat afraid,
that we never know
when we will turn from
healthy laughing bodies
to ashes and dust
and hung up in some corner
of a room
but what simply terrifies me,
is what happens of our memories
which are obliterated
into nothing.
No remains of the sunshine,
the snow,
the laughter,
the love,
all obliterated
in a blink
the soul is robbed
and death with a smirk
steals everything
eventually.
Writings to Heaven 