dust from the all the worlds
a scarf knitted by a mistress from somewhere,
jar of wine that makes you forget the past,
thirst for the lands unseen,
this was all
what the nomad ever carried.
scriptures from all of the worlds,
a letter written in some undecipherable launguage,
potion that makes you drown in dreams,
curiosity about people whom he never met,
this was all
what the wise had amassed
whenever they met.
They never traded stories.
They traded worlds.
Standing next to rocks we once carved
trying to remember the etched memories
of the years gone by,
when I had unison of dreams
and nightmares with you.
the wrath of time spared none,
not even the rocks , I see
but I wait
to conjure everything
from these rocks.
there is something about the air
when it is about to rain,
Did you ever feel it?
Like leaves on sun burnt trees
our ambitions slowly recede,
as the winds of change blow
are you really ready to let them go?
or would you catch them
as they fall and scatter
dead may always remain dead
but would it ever matter?
would you not wait for a whole season,
for them to grow again?
or just sit infront of the idiot box
silently biting away your pain.
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.
Writings to Heaven 