I am afraid,
Of taking a chance,
Of making a choice,
Of moving forward,
Of turning backward,
Of staying still.

I am afraid,
Of being a failure,
Of being a success,
Of what lies ahead,
Of what I left behind,
Of what stays here.

I am afraid,
Of what I might think,
Of what people might do,
Of what people might think,
Of what I might do,
And Of everything.

But most of all,
I am afraid,
Of what lies in me,
Beyond all that fear,
Of what will happen,
When you see it...

For then...

You will be afraid.

-

There lay a stone, that lived up to it's name,
Maybe to an extent, more than it claimed.
For it was stuck in a heap of clay,
It thought the clay had stiffened it up,
And without much thought, there he stayed.

The shale around him had turned it black,
And as the sun shone bright, it's surface cracked.
The poor old stone, in the heap of clay,
Believed that the crooked twisted slits,
Were it's own, and not the clay.

Through the crevices the stone saw the sight,
From the other side of the road, much to it's plight.
So absorbed was it with the beauty of the scene,
That it failed to notice that the view was the same,
On both sides of the road.

Once in a while the heavens showered pity,
As winds and rains to wash away the dirt,
But alas by then the stone believed it's destiny,
Was sealed by the loam, that was once just a layer on its surface,
But now it's a part of it's soul, body and it's mind.

-

"Darkness fed its thoughts, dark as they were,
It firmly believed that this was the end."
(Full text in caption)

-

An unfinished poem is
Like an unfinished necklace,
The string yearning for it's pearls,
Which refuse to stay together,
Without the remaining ones
Which have not yet made its way
Onto the necklace.

-

It lies in a forgotten book,
That I thought defined me.
It has long lost its smell,
The same smell which,
Drew me to that story,
I believed to be mine.
But all I can smell now,
Is the fresh new fragrance,
Of a fresh new rose.
It doesn't need a book,
To preserve it's beauty,
For it demands to be felt,
By the very air I breathe in...
For it believes that,
A story cannot be,
Confined in a book,
That can lie forgotten.

-

I have lived a life like many others,
A life in a world where nobody bothers,
With people for whom my existence matters,
Only when need arose, neither sooner nor later.

I was a proud mother of three,
I nurtured their roots, as they grew up to be trees,
But as the winter creeped up my tired old knees,
No one ever wanted me.

I was a damsel bright and sweet,
An object of desire for the men I would meet.
But when they learnt that I came for free,
No one ever wanted me.

I was a child, young and free,
With big wide eyes full of dreams
But when I refused to kill those dreams,
No one ever wanted me.

I wasn't born and yet I could hear,
The chant of the hymns that called for a son,
As they worshipped the Goddess of Life.
Irony smirked, as I set foot on earth,
For now... no one ever wanted me!

-

For this time I was angry,
For a reason I still don't know
Quietly I went to the pieces,
And crushed what remained of them.

I did what I had to,
But I still find myself,
Questioning this discretion of mine,
Or should I call it indiscretion??

And whenever the sky weeps,
I ask to myself
Just as poets do,
What could be the sky's lament?

Is it for how the same hands,
Crushed the palace it had created,
Or for something that could have been,
But now never will.

-

I built a palace for myself,
Of dreams and aspirations.
I placed each brick of hope
With the love of a billion emotions.

I relished in this palace
It was my very own.
It was too late when I realised,
It was but a palace of illusions.

For it wavered so precariously,
At even the slightest gush
Of a wind that had
Never threatened none.

Oh what a pain it was
To lift up the fallen pieces,
Never knowing what it was that broke,
My palace, or my soul?!

Broken, but not desolate,
I would build my palace anew
But somewhere deep I knew
Some bricks could not be replaced.

Then came a day,
When I could take no more
The sight and the plight,
Of my broken grandeur.

-

To the prettiest woman of my world:
It is my thank you note to you,
For all those times I spent all curled,
With my head on your lap, when friends I had few.

To the woman I learnt everything from:
It's my gratitude speaking today,
For being by my side, through the toughest storms,
When everything around had gone astray.

To one of the pillars of my existence:
It is to ask your forgiveness,
For all those days I had kept my distance,
When all you wanted was my sheer happiness.

To the sweetest flower in the garden of my life:
I want you to know that not a single day passes by,
When in spite of all woes and rife,
I haven't thought of you and sighed.

I can't thank you enough maa,
For there aren't enough words to express,
The vast expanse of the infinite sky,
Or for the space in our hearts that you occupy.

-

Ever experienced the tranquil before a storm?
Well that's how perfect life can be!

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