a hush amidst the clamour
a soft melody that hovers
a gentle tap on the shoulder

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Drafting business letters during day, penning poetry at night.

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I can’t imagine how horrifying it must have been for everyone in that flight to know a split second before the crash, that you are in death’s hands, helpless and hopeless. To succumb to its engulfing flames. Maybe some were visiting a foreign country for the first time for vacation or for work, while some were going back to their homes, their families. All of their dreams, hopes crashed and their lives became stories, memories in a moment. It is ever hard to process how fragile life is and how powerful death is.
My heart goes out to those souls and my prayers are with the families they have left behind. I hope the bereaved find strength to overcome the blankness that now remains in place of their loved ones.

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When nothing makes sense anymore

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Sunlight seeps in and
fills the room
with renewed hope
delivering a message of self-love,
asking you to rekindle
the radiance of your feisty spirit.

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Love has a language
And ours is distance and silence
Wouldn’t have it the other way
For it would be too much to bear

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June’s deluge
Secreted me with a love
That I carry like a souvenir
Within my soul

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it becomes adulterated with expectations of any kind. When it is constricted by conditions. Love is magical when it is reciprocated but to love no matter what makes you free.

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Three’s a prime
A number sublime
Count to three
And knock three times
Is the rule usually
One toast to the past
two to the present
And three to what
Is yet to be

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a minstrel with a silken voice
spinning gossamer dreams,
making me wistful and hopeful
at the same time.

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