O home,we grown up keeping heart full memoirs,
By far,you are too older to me!!
it makes me hysteric, when times come to get detached
Your corner- my safe place
Warms me the way that I never find anywhere.
You have planted me since the day
When I step in to the universe,
And softly youu say
how a mother is a mother;
As same as home,home is a parent in their absence!
When I need for someone to speak the untold stories,
How often one home replies
With hard eyes and soft voice ,
It's okay to cry, world never ends when good things do!
You shaded the dark days with multitude of colors,
O home,how to put words for you
Who always there for me to rely on...!

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Behind the curtain of beautiful
methaphors
Portraying rain as captivating splendor
Lies the pain of zillion lives
Flooding roads and flooding realms
those tiny engulf home , engulf hope
No thatched roof to shelter their bodies
No covered wall left to hold onto their memories
Torn pages,broken sleeps
Flooded with pain along with artrocious rain
This is how ,they travel all over the lane
The petriochor of esctacy is no more smelt
All that smelts is lonely sorness of bodies
Whose eyes still holds a little desire,
that ,someday surely it will heal the pain.
But those glittering drops of rain ,just comes to bring rain on many tiny creatures.

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Lingering!!! Lingering!!
Are those insomniac night's
When the street seems to be bare,
Bare me, hook up with the lonely streets.
The moon awakens for me
With whom only I can affix, to expunge the anxiety.
But those depressed days and anxiety are not welcoming anymore,
Though they were dead and weary
But hell those days , I am missing out.
Feels Like, Everything getting elevated as the years passes by.... 🥺

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It's feel like
I'm loosing my mind
Everything is slipping away
The more I chase, the more I face
This pull me down
No more, I can stay at this holy ground
Like an failure
Confined in my thoughts
That I always loose the fortuinity
And Pain is my silhouette
I wanna to shed this part of mine
In a hope that new roots will grow
But always a voice huddle me
That I was born to be low
I don't how to be louder than that voice,
And rage a mutiny
I'm scattered
I've lost all my peace
Don't when this we'll get unleash

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A Teacher is
Not Only the person who teaches
Or pokes you with a sharp stick
But he is the one who begins your dream
Believes in you
Tugs and pushes and lead to you to next path...
For the apex of sucess
He is like a candle who consume itself
to light the path of others.

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EVERYTHING ENDS...
Like a dried leaf, detached form it Genesis,
and so detached are all its dreams.
As Some precious green fatansies it saw,
Were devastated by autumn's bow
I frighten, whether my dreams might get cleave like those dried leaves..
and For these, I query to the deity
"Why did he shows the dreams, if all has to go in vain? "

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Despite of all the darkness in my life,
I'm trying to adorn my eyes with those
Pearl like stars,
I'm trying to peek that from shady
blackness in search of smile
As I know with the pinch of blackness,
the white glow has more meaning.

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Hope is just like,
Assumption of possibilities over contrariety..

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You are strong enough to tackle with any predicament...

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Who teaches, eventually every things gets diminishes by the passage of the time
and possess strong determination to rise again..

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