"Not in life, too little of it left, always; and neither in death, too much of it waiting, always. "

" I said when. Not where. "

" Are not life and death the only units of time? "

" Wrong. Life and death are places. Time itself, is the true unit of distance. You are two hours away, now and next, two lifetimes away. "

"Then you tell me yourself, when shall we meet again? "

" The right answer of course, my love, no matter the place, whether the chaotic lands of life or the certain plains of death, the right answer has always been 'forever'. "

"Then let's meet again, at eternity. "

-

...

-

Only things that are red do break for a heart.
Blue things are for condolences and other heartless words.
Ask the sky and the ocean
Have they not swallowed what others mourn?

-

It's been a while since I have spoken to people, so the words keep tumbling out, I wanted to talk about the sky with someone else and I spilled it to you, that aloo chat recipe was for my friend, I hope you like it, this route was under construction a month ago so maybe you will find it all repaired now.

Maybe you will find me all repaired now.

-

...

-

All my loves have been momentary, but I am under the illusion that I will love them permanently because I'd rather be made of love than the absence of it.

-

If I'm told not to swear my love by the inconstant moon, then I will start my poem with "then what else will bear witness, for our love will never see the light of the day. "

-

Come what season my way
On Time's ploughing wheel
It is with change I lay
And so am constant still
.

-

If I’m dying, let it be at the hands of Nostalgia
An escapist’s romance, awash in whose light
Even the chaos of everyday’s mundanity
Is the flame of Beauty’s setting sun
Yesterday was blood but poetry
Today was stagnance but spring
And though Tomorrow wears ever the crown of uncertainty
It is coloured wistful.

The windows have rattled when sunbeams fell in
But pretty prisoners in glass they make
While Time makes them the moment’s thunder
Down, down, down they pour
Nostalgia’s rain
Tear train
Like butterflies feeding on corpses
This reminiscence preys on me
And I sit, foolish flower sucked dry
In dreams of spring, in autumn's hell.

-

After this winter ends, let me kill myself
There are some flowers that even spring cannot bring to life
And why should I mar the beauty of a garden in bloom?
But which winter was it again?
Let summer pass and the rains come
Before I remember the last winter to go
Spring can bury my dead earth
With fallen mango shoots
Too heavy in their rush to ripen

When winter leaves I will ask to be taken along
Spring, till such time comes, please stay strong.

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