THE NIGHT
Breathing the cold air,
we stand by the dying fire.
Wisps of smoke
Kissing the sky.
As the night falls
Silence wraps us all.
Only a few embers remain,
raging against the wind.
Over us, a cloudless night.
The shimmering furnaces
ever so bright.
Shy sickle, lost in their light.
The hallowed flames of universe
Bejeweled the curtains of night.
Too many to count,
too beautiful to look away.
As the embers die, we turn to stars.
Each looking back in time.
Countless windows of the night.

-

THE RIVER
A gentle breeze
making ripples in the river.
A boy sits on the shore,
enchanted.
shuffling pebbles in his hands.
The river, unmindful
flows; calm and serene
shimmering with life.
He can't touch the water,
Tantalus of sorts.
A pebble is thrown,
Ripples and Splashes.
Water glistens on his skin,
then it is gone.
The river moves on,
sharing no more of its essence.
The boy... transfixed,
Waits,
for the river to change course
and drown him in its flow.
Witnessing the life of his longing,
he waits.

-

HOUSE

A gust of wind, flips over the calender
revealing a thin crack in the wall.
A crack, that wasn't there
yesterday or the day before.
Growing large,
every passing moment.

(In caption)

-

EYES IN THE WOODS

Eyes, they say
are windows to the soul.
Today
thousands of innocent eyes, look
out of the trees, down from the sky
deep within the water,
at their ever shrinking homes.
(In caption)

-

So profound is your absence
in my life,
That my presence in yours is nothing less than an obscenity.

-

सुबह हुई


सुबह हुई

और चल दिए।

देश के कारक, या सिर्फ एक भीड़?

काफिला उस सोच का,

जो हर पीढ़ी को ढालती आयी है अपने सांचे में।

तो क्या सुबह हुई?  या कुछ और ढल गया सूरज भविष्य का?

(Read full in caption)

-

You are there, in front of me.
You exist, so do I.
No, not together.
A world apart, perhaps.
To touch you, to feel you,
Assures me of your presence.
Yet, the eyes don't look at me.
Your breath won't brush against my skin.
You are with me,
where you no longer belong.

-

"It is not the works, but the belief which is here decisive and determines the order of rank--to employ once more an old religious formula with a new and deeper meaning,--it is some fundamental certainty which a noble soul has about itself, something which is not to be sought, is not to be found, and perhaps, also, is not to be lost.--The noble soul has reverence for itself."

Friedrich Nietzsche
(Beyond Good and Evil)

-

THE PEN AND PAPER

Some days I want to write,
About things that I feel.
And there is that small shadow,
That takes in all of me.
The pen is heavy, unyielding on the paper.
I scribble something,
I strike it out.
My hands tremble, words are stubborn.
Refuse to obey my thoughts.
I put the pen down,
The sheet is rough.
Coarse to touch, waiting to absorb,
All that I can offer it.

(CONTINUED IN CAPTION)

-