The charcoal curls of your ever raging tempest
And the crescent shadow of your sharp lashes
Fell on me and now grows ever more stark,
As the moon climbs higher.

Fingers that runs along your nape and neckline,
Searching for you in a world unmapped.
Found it, in your crimson lips,
As a single drop of tear.

A sudden rumble in the distance.
A humble reminder of the night
That the sands are running out
And a haunting winter is nigh.

There's not a price I wouldn't pay for this to endure.
But Not even half of what you love is
Not in all of what it is.

-

I saved a man today who dies tomorrow.
I burnt the Phoneix down to celebrate its birth.
I drank the ocean dry to save the drowning fish.
I savoured a love calmly which won't bloom ever.
I yearned to live more when it got bored enough.
I gambled with death when I got curious enough.

Seduced by the morality,
Succumbed into the voice of reason,
Knowing well that both are the perverse greed
that disguised itself into vice and virtue,
I give in to the facade of banality
that we call life which is nothing
But a sexually transmitted disease.

-

Like the blind men who touched the
elephant for the first time,
We all revere in our own facts.
But the ether we share doesn't believe in absolutes.
It believes in something more,
Something more than truth.
When we are down to our dregs,
There's no friend or foe,
For we have lost its meaning sometime before.

I stood there where God lays six feet under and it whispered.
That the truth is part of the act too
And it's act all the way down.

Maybe the elephant was never in the room.

-

Not a Ripple but a great Tide you were.
A Spring tide which never ebbed my shore.

But never more fair, the game was.
It offers nothing less painful to lose
And I'm an embittered coward who lacks heart.
Yet I propose a ride, to the moon and back
And it's upto you if I'm meant to fly this solo.
As it's not my board, not my sport.
And I'm all out of moves; it's your turn now.

If the trail isn't for us, so be it.
Let this be the swan song of what remains.

-

The oldest song reminisce its ancient past,
Shredding our eternal conquests, ephemeral.

In the valley of no slope and hope,
Those ventured high would fall.
While the hand worn down by time
Grows numb with no taste of pain.
And God, indeed that stupor died,
left one mystery behind,

"What's the point?"

-

We crave things we don't owe.
We pray to the gods we don't know.
We keep the mast high,
while the breeze turns into a blizzard.
We hold the wheel on course,
while the current whirls a maelstrom.

We expect the mercy we don't sow.
We pine for the love we don't show.
We must learn to ignore;
We must learn not to judge too.
Our expectations, once we becalmed,
are none but dust from the past.

-

I was on my way to fly high, to feel what's thine;
Couldn't accept that the sun wasn't mine.
Almost 3 seconds, the best I ever got.
Re-living it often, to find what has been lost.
Us, It's Us; like a dream for the price of sleep.
Still wonder whether I had it in me that deep.

For an artless nerd, it never felt like a ruse.
End of the braid, yet there are more blues.
Loved every moment which lasted.
Lost each one which I loved.

-

It's cold outside;
Cold enough to lit the lamp.
And light attracts vermin, a moth,
Excited and alluded by the flame.

It's a strange couple;
Strange enough to keep them tied.
And so, love is reducing the radius,
There..! Gone.

You're a fool;
Foolish enough to go crazy for it.

-

I have no power, Mother.
I'm stuttering on my own thoughts.
The trail went cold, like God did.
I'm being adrift in the abyss of lost time.
Swirling in an everlasting valley----
It's not that dark but silent as the dead.

Oh! I speak again.
Not with my thoughts but emotions.
Immortal Beloved, Aren't feelings ephemeral?
I see these new breadcrumbs now,
Leading to the day of reckoning.
Where I can have the sheer joy of being free.
Where I can be worthy enough to die.

-

As soon as the curtain opens,
He runs, He gets hurt,
He makes fun of himself,
And He tells a story out of it,
To keep them smiling.

No one told you to do so,
But you do, like your life's at stake.
For the people who loathe you.

Now the curtain seals off
Both the play and our flamboyance.
There's a reason why do they call us as, "The fool".

-