Someday,
When we have loved and lost;
When we have given and taken;
When we have climbed the peaks and must descend, weary;
That day my friend, we shall collect those pieces,
And we shall build again with it,
A home for just you and me,
And there shall be no more goodbyes,
but for the last.

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Do you really love me?
Or are you just perfecting the art of it,
for when you really will?
______

I feel this new seed rattle in the earth,
with the din of a thousand horses,
slowly each day,
nudging the soil upward under the six feet of winters,
a millimeter barely,
but surely.

(Read more below)

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When I'm traveling between cities, I like to arrive at my destination with the morning papers, this way, my arrival usually isn't the worst news my hosts will recieve that day.

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Hey, sleep! Why won't you?

Why won't you let me slip away, unnoticed, in the dead of the night? Have you been trying to keep me here?

Perhaps, I should rush back? Just one last goodbye kiss, the memory of which I'll keep for an eternity, of which I could curl up and die to, some muggy morn, alone, in a shack in June when the bugs sing?

I see you watch me through shifty eyes shining under dark roofs. Have you been trying to keep me here for yourself? Or for the lover I'm leaving behind tonight?

There just isn't the time now though. I'm needed elsewhere...not really...but that's what I told her, else she wouldn't let me leave. So, I guess I'll choose another lover, another memory, another shack, another day to die?

There! You know all my secrets now, don't you?

Hey city! Now sleep, won't you?

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I have been in fights with men,
strong men,
who could throw punches like a gutting mountain gale,
but,
none have compared to life;
and I have a feeling that none ever will.

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Gather friends and people like you would sticks for a fire. Choose them for what's inside of them, the ones who aren't afraid to get burnt. Most importantly, BE like the people you seek, even the tinder to the fire. Expand your conciousness as a circle by talking about how you can change what you abhor in the world. Act on those ideas.

If many of us can do the same, perhaps one day, when the night is cold and the darkest it has ever been, the world shall be illuminated as we burn bright and there shall be warmth once more.

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"Growing up, a parental warning that was quite popular, in middle class Indian households, went something like this: “If you don’t study hard, you’ll fail your exams and you’ll end up swabbing other’s people’s floors and washing dirty dishes for a living”.

After quitting my job to write full time, I found myself scrubbing gravy off a used pan, wondering if the childhood warning had come true, now that I wasn’t working hard in a conventional role."

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Three soldiers,
Three cigarettes,
One matchstick,
Smoking kills.

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"Mommy loves them too", she said to her father, as she let her balloon go.

Together they watched it float into the heavens.

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The colour of love's gotta be green!

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