Ask

Be sited firmly in a quiet place
And ask the eyes of a grieving person
'What is it like ?'
Is it petrichor or sea storms

And ask the cheecks of a grieving person
'What is it like?'
Is it fertile or flooded

But don't ask the heart
The void the cold void will make you cold

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When I was child everything seemed more. I remember had a fishing game with like 20 big fishes . But after a couple of years when I took the game out of the box I was surprised to see 6 and that's the actual number of fishes there were.

All the cupboards were so tall then. And roads never ending. And stones were so big.

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In shabby shoes with dirty hands
There is a painter down the lane
Getting glimpse of appreciation
Somedays .

In cute flaps with color smeared hands
There is a litter painter papa's princess
Adorned as the best the the world.

In polished shoes with neat hands
There is a tall painter looking at people
Admiring his work.

There is yet another painter
Who devours the canvases one after the other. Treasuring them from the spectators

Amongst all there is one
The mightiest of the mighty
He paints through out the day
In crimson hues to all the ocean blues
A painter who paints vigorously and relentlessly .
We don't know if he do watch
his spectators who jump upon seeing his canvas or the one's who capture it with lenses.
The painter who paints the sky

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Darkness gonna end
There is gonna be the sun shining
When you wake up my dear
All the joy
All the light

But I get up to stormy morning
I see the sun rising like a beam
Transing to nothingness
I hear the birds cheapening but
Not in joy in fear

You tell me I will feel gratitude
Like I used to
But my dear all the feel
When I wake up to these stormy mornings
Is the pain the storm in me

Dear you can't hope with nothing

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Be like a Tsunami,
When you go down take everything with you.
Or leave of a indiscriminatable weak

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Letters to Heaven

25th September 2021,

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Separation

Till Death do us apart.
There is
no Adhere to this separation.
No Bridge to cross to have you back.
No place to visit to have you back.
No soul to please to have you back.
No task to accomplish to have you back.
No remedy to this separation.
A uninhabited pound of fresh in the hollow of my chest seeks you.

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A Rajput riding on his horse and stole the poetess 's heart .

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What makes you epic?

What makes you love Netflix? And I love it too.

In Hollywood don't they pick up there most valuable cultural card and play with it even in a losing game?

Why not us we have so much to explore
Come on my readers just run down your own bloodline. Just your own put your title on Google and do it . Relate it to your original state. Just do this once. There are epic stories more like epic history. Read it . There might be some darkness ignore it , everyone who prospers only follow the light .


There is so much potential within you.

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Of the tiny little rat that can make a hole in the wall and illuminate that dark room killing the darkness

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