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A wing detached,
From an insect ,
Gently, glides,
The insect is relieved,
At the unwanted guest
But a human, looks at the insect,
Feels pity.

Few days later,
The insect spreads his lustre wings,
Under the sunlight,
A human says, how beautiful,

Most abhor caterpillars,
Love the butterflies
That's the irony of a human.

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Once a woman asked a philosopher,
How can we know someone intimately?
The philosopher took her to a room,
Where a shattered mirror, strewn around,
The woman looked, her thousand reflections.
Which one is you? Is all you or are you an image formed in a thousand minds, you are trying to fulfil.

In a broken world where emotions run amok,
Knowing a person intimately is like seeing,
the thousand images on a broken glass,
Wondering which image to choose, not knowing the reflection was the same, but the image we choose was from our expectations.

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Once there were girls and boys,
They grew up on a vagabond boat,
A future, they hoped to live on the horizon
Their eyes met their bodies longed,
Butterflies in the stomach and
Hormones raged,Dreamy days and sleepless nights,
A trip of heaven on earth,
Some got married, some separated,
Illusion and disillusion, part of life,
Some dreamt, some hoped,
Lust, love, jealousy, rat race, part of life
Laments, heartbreak, happiness, part of life.
Old age beckoned,
They again traveled on a vagabond boat,
Their eyes saw it.
Some smiled, some cried, some silent.
The boat gently rocked,
To the emotions.

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In a world divided by religion,
In a world divided by race,
In a world divided by sex,
In a world divided by nationalities,
In a world divided by customs,
In a world divided by cultures,
In a world divided by age,
We still, are looking for words,
That would divide people.

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Everyone's story is dipped,
In the same ink,
Written by the same hand,
Only the strokes are different,
So the Up's and downs varies,
In time, everyone goes through the same stuff.

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Love is nature’s way to awake you,
To the tune of emotions.
A nature places strings,
In one’s heart and let the other person play it,
Each string connected to an emotional reaction,
When you let the other pluck the string,
It’s you  who reacts to it.
Now, decide, if you want to be a musical instrument,
For others to play.
Or do you want to be the person,
Who understands yourself better,
To not be manipulated,
No matter, how well the other plays your hearts-tune.  

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Have you come accross a point in life,
When, all you want to do,
Is, slowly wind back the clock,
Travel back in time,
And make those photographs,
You have always loved come alive,
Feeling the touch of your loved ones on you,
And keeping your head on Mom/Dad’s lap
And sleeping so time stops there.

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A woman knows, from a certain age,
That her body is already knotted,
To the thoughts of people around her,
Her mind is already rooted,
To the world’s convention of a woman.
Hence the fear and confusion at a certain point in life,
When she has to take that drastic step,
To step away from conventions,
To tear away the knots.
Yes, it will hurt and be painful,
But there are also people,
Whom the woman never knew could exist,
Who would welcome her.
It’s not about pushing oneself,
It’s about trying to live a dreamed life,
Not only for a woman,
But for generations to come.

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Love is all about hormones,
Is it?
Love is a voyage through the eye of the storm,
Amidst the emotional upheavels,
You see a thoughl-mirror,
That doesn’t reflect your image,
But will display your thoughts (inner, outer, hidden…).
You will return from the voyage,
Of having experienced your root-thoughts,.
As a human and a new perspective about yourself.
Failure and success can teach you to overcome
Your limitations and areas you have to work hard.
But, only love,

Will reveal to you how humane you are as a human.

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