Red to dark
a rose withers
and changes colours
in a silent garden
the petals shed
sepals run for shade

they run the risk of being too naked
too shy; the green sepals are also too ashamed
too modest; afraid to be put to shame
they hide from the flaming sun

one by one
the silk red clothes are shed
the bract will held other red roses

the gardener comes and
breaks the pedicel
saving the sepals
from the anticipated
onlookers judging eyes!

-

When you were inside for so long
that the window became the world
and the world the window
and through it all, you see darkness
and everytime the window
showed you a new world
rebooting ideas of a better time
and resampling your vision of life

The window was portal
of a time of natural beauty
with fresh air and fewer worries
and you sat there looking out
untill you felt comfortable enough
to go out and breathe again

but when you figured out
about the window
it acted as a barrier
a supreme safety net from living
as you watched clouds float idly by
along with a year of your life

The window gives you so much
but when you are not careful
you start to mistake what you see
for what you are doing and then
you lost inside a self prism
where light refracts off yourself
and creates a hologram
of the person you want to be

and when you look outside
all you ever needed to do
was to open the window
to let the air in, and on some days,
just climb out and live again.

-

“just tell me how was your blind date last night?”

“He was like one of those moody,
endless foreign films where everyone
mumbles in a language you don't
understand and the subtitle translations are a little off.
It's neither raining or dark in almost every other movie scene.
Not much happen for two hours
and each character is kind of an idiot.

After a while you grow bored and
start looking at your phone”.

-

Imbued.
Morn's breath,
oscillations preclude time,
murders of crows,
Scent.

-

Ecstatic world hum
Propagating ebru art
crack of dawn
expand the soul.

-

I can smell the dark.

It's gritty and crackles
in my mouth
I chew it over
and watch the clock.

I have been watching it
all my life.

-

When i watch
the butterfly of my innocence
run free
through a forest,
between the old pine trees
I hear her calling, under a gold,
blue sky
Lost somewhere between the pine,
where the cicadas' cry
i try to trace her, through the high dune
then the transformation begins,
beneath a new moon
“what will become of me?”
I ask wearily.
“Remember...” she whispered.
”You will become only, what you
choose to be.

-

You love them as your life
but for them
love is not enough
to keep them with us,
one by one,
those we can't live without,
and love without reservation,
die no matter how many tears we shed
In the end
we are always left alone.

-

As far as i am dying
to be alone,
my longing for solitude
tends to be eclipsed
by the fear that precedes
utter loneliness
it's a distress that sets in
upon realising
that only a good friend
that make things better
someone to talk to
to walk and share with
along life's troublesome paths,

A soul who knows
how to step away
to let you breathe and recover,
but will only leave you in shadows
long enough for you
to be yourself again.

So may be
what i am really asking of you
is to leave, but please, sometime soon
come back.

-

When your feelings fade
thought emerges
the aftershock of mistakes made
clarity found
new steps to take

change arises
from meticulous planning
lessons are learnt
and corrections give way

We rejuvinate anew
moving on with our lives
in better form
Maturity comes from
yesterday's flaws

we endure pain
for its reapperance
not giving in
to that evil voice
whispering words
of accepting despair

the road of life
is not a perfect one
pathholes appear
and we are stuck sometimes
but we strive and push
till we are free to fly.

-