As waves wrestle playfully,
I revel like a nonchalant dreamer near the shores,
watching the sun disappear,
while the sounds of the sea,
calm its disappearance
I waited all night,
to see the golden coronation
of the bluish waters,
as the horizons brightened up
in the morning
a thousand faces,
a million visions,
now stay with me,
meanwhile the city of dreams,
sleeps somewhere.
It rained almost every night,
the darkness settled in arrays
of brisk coldness,
dissolved in the winds
which howled and shattered
glasses of silence
that followed
for you it just meant a delay,
in carrying those earthen pots
walking with bare feet,
holding the grace and modesty
though puddles of cold water,
the weathers and wonders of god
meant nothing to you,
toiling for days and years
for a future unseen,
visioned through tired puffy eyes
of yours,
the only light you believed in
were in temples that devoured
ghee.
I slept all this time,
but never told you
about the minutes I counted
and waited to hear you mother,
to put the earthen pot
now full of water,
back on its place
and to see you settle down,
next to me again
as the dawn
proceeds to the dusk,
a thousand images
of this beautiful world,
rotate and change,
sublime visions,
evaporate,
my capillaries,
and adrenaline
burst straight up
like a heroin abuser
drowning in a pool of dreams.
for I have been summoned
to peek in this kaleidoscope,
we sometimes call life,
and I just stare.
the mirrors would shatter soon,
the music will slither in,
it would be dark and damp.
Just as I dreamt once.
that night.
Caress the playful waves,
breathe the snowflakes of this breeze,
stroll the unseen paths carelessly,
in the dreams within your dream,
Kiss the dying horizon,
feel the sand below your feet,
embrace the horses that once rode
the beaches,
just like your old memories
Besmirch the nightmares slowly,
wake up alone in these hallowed nights,
comfort all what is left within yourself,
feel this earth again without the lights
When it all comes back to you,
and I know it will,
write something beautiful about it,
let those waiting pages finally fill.
Time lapse of
sublimation of melodies,
blurred caffeinated visions,
the smell of breeze,
with a tinge of petrichor,
cold wet grass,
the bare feet,
an impulse strikes the heart,
asynchronously,
capillaries dosed
with sugary love,
eyelids popping,
drooling,
turning like red sprinkles
of kesar,
in a cold icy lake,
this never-ending dream,
defeats an unpredictable life,
or maybe we are dreaming only,
unable to see the tombstone
of reality,
waiting to wake up,
away from the monotony,
from barren heartless lands,
to ourselves,
to create,
a life destined to
eclipse these dreams.
a deep abyss awaits,
with hues of blue and red above,
as the horizon devours the sun,
amidst the salt and sand,
a fisherman
melts into the stupor,
of this serenity toxified,
by smell of the exuberant waves
while the red sun,
slits the blue skies throat,
the fisherman dreams of drowning,
of kissing the waiting abyss,
of floating lifelessly,
in the ocean full of life,
he dreams to return to his friend,
to his father, to his deities,
just to be reborn again,
as a wave,
as a kraken,
as a breeze,
that never dies.
an amicable smell
from the dried grasses
after the evening drizzle
and the turmeric laden idols,
that fuses into memories,
like reopening dust laden book,
in the house that greets waves
with eyes closed and an absence
of discord
even souls here burn
and wash away like a dried
incense stick on voyage
to nowhere and everywhere
the cows ring bells
in harmony and unison
there are no beds
but the dogs and humans
sleep alike
in comforts of a ground
that caresses unequivocally
in life and eternal death.
the smell has gone now
now concrete, glasses and woods
stink of success and fervor,
something terrible happened
really terrible.
Writings to Heaven 