In youth's embrace, love was a simple stream,
Flowing from hearts tender, pure, and green.
Childish whims and softness intertwined,
In the same river, our dreams confined.

We swam with laughter, our spirits light,
But the river's end, vast ocean in sight,
Endless in breadth, its depths unknown,
We drifted apart, into the vastness thrown.

Origins forgotten, the source the same,
In the ocean's arms, we played a different game.
It matters not where the journey began,
For the sea has cycles, part of a grander plan.

Scattered souls, by currents swept,
In the dance of waves, secrets adept.
Yet the ocean's cycle, mysterious and vast,
Can bring together what was once the past.

No belief in destiny, only science I heed,
But what if science is the destiny we need?

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In quiet chambers, hearts harbor nodes,
Where laurels fade, and applause wanes,
Happiness thrives, elusive yet profound,
Fed not by accolades, but by hunger.

An insatiable thirst propels us forth,
To uncharted realms, edges of knowing,
Sipping from the cup of new experiences,
Life's paper boat, unanchored, afloat.

Tibetan mandala, painstakingly formed,
Monks' hands weave devotion into sand,
Layers of impermanence, vibrant hues,
Yet, they dismantle their masterpiece.

Wind carries grains across vast expanse,
Solace found in dissolution, transient,
Embrace this testament, fleeting moments,
For happiness whispers, "This, too, shall pass."

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Amidst the shades of gray that lie,
Where truth and falsehood softly vie,
A world not black, not white, but sly,
With countless hues that mystify.

Life's meaning rich, then starkly bare,
A paradox both foul and fair,
Where right and wrong in twain do tear,
And leave the soul in sheer despair.

To write in anger, a fruitless feat,
A path that leads to more deceit,
And water's quest, no more replete,
For happiness's dam, we've made obsolete.

In this moral haze, we grope for light,
Where shades of gray obscure our sight,
Yet within this spectrum, we must fight,
To find the balance, to claim our right.

-

The scents of samosas, the sizzle of fries,
Drift through the air under the twilight skies.
Yet I close my doors, shut my windows tight,
To keep out the feast that tempts my sight.

For in this month of fast and prayer,
I find a solace that's quite rare.
Away from home, in this urban sprawl,
I seek the peace that comes with the muezzin's call.

The best of snacks, just steps away,
Beckon with aromas that sway.
But my heart pleads for the motherly touch,
For her cooking that I miss so much.

Her hands that knead the dough with care,
The love she sprinkles in the air.
No city treat can quite compare,
To the meals she makes with extra flair.

-

The engine hums, a rhythm to his plight,
Each mile a chance to set things right.
Her laughter fades, a memory in the air,
His heart a heavy stone, a truth he couldn't share.
The airport nears, a final chance to speak,
To confess his love, a dam on the verge to leak.
But doubt's cold grip, it held his tongue in thrall,
His fragile hope, a teardrop meant to fall.
He sees her smile, a future bright and new,
A life he couldn't paint himself into.
So silence reigned, a sacrifice he made,
For her happiness, a price his own heart paid.

Now, every day, he drives that same worn road,
A phantom journey, a heavy, wordless load.

He parks and waits, a ghost beneath the sky,
Yearning to rewind, to finally let her know why.

But only silence greets him, and the ache,
A constant fire, a love he can't forsake.
He burns his fuel, he burns his heart anew,
A highway of regret, a love forever blue.

-

The sea, a restless heart, crashes on the shore,
An endless dance, forevermore.

Yearning to meet the lake, serene and still,
A hidden haven, nestled amidst the city's thrill.

He whispers secrets on the breeze, salty and bold,
Longing for connection, a story yet untold.

But the lake, a guarded soul, reflects the city's light,
Holding onto dreams, beneath the cloak of night.

Love's tide rises, a force no dam can bind,
Sweeping away resistance, leaving doubt behind.

The floodgates open, a torrent breaks free,
Uniting the lake and sea, eternally.

The city sighs, a memory in the mist,
As love's embrace, forever shall persist.

A gentle spray whispers on the ocean's roar,
Love finds its way, resistance guides no more.

-

India's vibrant, a kaleidoscope bright,
Yet tangled threads can sever love's light.
Ancestral echoes in each heart reside,
But customs clash, where yearning souls confide.

Blood's memory whispers, a shared primal tongue,
But dialects diverge, where love is sung.
Skin's deeper hues, a sun-kissed, fertile land,
Can raise a wall built upon grains of sand.

Skull's bony cage, a product of the clime,
Dictates a distance wrought by space and time.
Love's modern theories, by science defined,
May falter here, where cultures unwind.

Can bridges rise o'er chasms carved so deep?
Must ancient rites forever lovers keep?
Perhaps compassion's flame, a gentle fire,
Can melt these walls, and hearts' true selves inspire.

-

Beneath a tapestry of stars, so vast, unknown,
Your eyes, two galaxies, forever in my own.
But fate, a cruel geographer, has drawn a line,
Dividing hearts that yearn, yet fear to intertwine.

To claim you for my own, a selfish, grasping hand,
Would uproot you from the soil, the language of your land.
Your laughter, like a melody, in tones I don't possess,
Would falter, lose its rhythm, amidst a borrowed dress.

To bid you stay, a love imprisoned in this cage,
Would dim the fire in your soul, extinguish childhood's sage.
The stories whispered in your tongue, the dances you hold dear,
Would fade like distant echoes, a whisper, faint and clear.

Oh, love, caught in this tempest, torn 'tween two desires,
To chase the fleeting dream, or fan the dying fires.
No answer lies within my grasp, no solace in the night,
Only the echo of your name, a fragile, flickering light.

-

A single tear, a charcoal stain,
On painted cheeks, a mask of pain.
Years have passed, the memory raw,
Of love once offered, love she couldn't draw.

He, a flame, so bright and true,
Saw through her smile, the skies of blue
He painted in her heart, a fleeting dream,
But guilt's dark brush, muddied the scheme.

Her heart, a canvas, cold and stark,
Too young for love, a fragile lark.
She pushed him away, a whispered plea,
"Forgive me, love, I'm not meant for thee."

Now, years unfold, the world a stage,
Filled with painted smiles, a gilded cage.
He's a distant memory, a haunting face,
The charcoal tear, a silent, guilty trace.

For deep within, a truth resides,
A love unseen, a flame that hides.
Perhaps one day, the mask will fall,
And love's true colors paint it all.

-

I see world with open and close eyes
May be universe after I close.
What do you say, brainstorming
But there is a tsunami of ideas and situations
when plugged in pillow
Haha, the devil laugh
It happens when you see the universe with open eyes.
Why do I write these things, artistic way of expression.
Not a poet, but a penner, no rules bind
Sword show is to brag not to fight,
A penner brag likewise the expression.
These thoughts keep coming like a wave
and recede like a flush after sleep.
I am not murmuring in sleep, I am talking in dreams.

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