Light to me is like a mirage, shimmering in the haze,
An unreal comfort cradling my thoughts in hollow ways,
Every glimmer feels like laughter, a cruel jest in the gloom,
While the burdens of my heart birth shadows in the room.

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Diwali candles,
Whispers of hope in the dark,
Guiding hearts to peace.

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Hall of books ,quiet but where knowledge grows,
Shelves of scripts where the soft light glows,
Stories house where whispers dance in the air,
Library a world where magic is not rare.

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You are like a lamp, glowing softly in the dusk,
Casting a warm light that wraps around my heart,
A glow that beckons me, with its sweet, alluring pull.

I am a moth, dancing in the soft surrender of night,
Drawn to the flicker of your presence, bold yet frail,
As the gentle breeze whispers secrets through the leaves,
Weaving tales of love and longing, bright as the stars

Yet with your warmth comes the searing heat of desire,
I hover too close, a moth entranced by heat’s embrace,
Knowing, in this dance, I risk my very essence,
To burn in your light, a sacrifice willingly made

In the garden of memory, I’ll forever reside,
Where you are the lamp, and I, the moth by your side,
With tales of love that shimmer in the twilight’s glow,
In the dance of our shadows, through forever, we flow.

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I wandered barefoot on the paths woven of summer blooms,
With every step uncovering the earthen stories beneath,
Once, I thought the world was carved from gold and silver spoons,
Yet here, in the embrace of dusk, richness is a mantle of wreath.
How ironic, this journey from treasures to the mere essence of breath.

In that forgotten place, where the willow holds its sway,
I gather the fragments of my story, a quilt of colors bright,
For in the quiet sanctuary of nature's lush array,
I learn that less is more, and even shadows hold their light,
In the tapestry of life, every simple breath takes flight.

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the rustling stories,
Like sighs of the wind weaving symphonies through croaking branches,
Like an old friend who knows your heart, with each creak and groan echoing
Life would be such a muted hue,
the tales of summers spent in laughter, with shadows stretching long and golden.

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In quiet moments, love unfolds,
A true love story, tender and bold.
Calm like the sea, serene as the night,
Two hearts in stillness, everything feels right.


With actions that glimmer, like stars up above,
More than mere whispers, it’s the language of love.
In respect they flourish, hand in hand they stroll,
A dance of connection, the merging of souls.


Through every silence, and every embrace,
Peace wraps around them, a gentle lace.
In the heart of their journey, where true feelings lie,
A love that is steadfast, like the vast, open sky.

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In a sun-drenched kitchen where aromas dance and twirl,
The wooden spoon stirs stories as flavors swirl,
With vibrant peppers sliced like laughter in the air,
And herbs that whisper secrets, rich and rare.

The sizzle of garlic, a symphony so sweet,
As onions caramelize, they weave time’s gentle beat,
A sprinkle of salt, like joyful confetti tossed,
In this edible canvas, every worry's lost.

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this beautifully wry jest,
Where ambition takes a backseat, and procrastination is our guest.
We salute the dawn’s arrival, a soldier to morning's march,
Bearing burdens of exhaustion under a self-made, tireless arch.

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