A boy may clement
uniquely this role
with unequivocal height
he only instill insight
and achieve with a hardship
his resolve short of abandonment
while remiss with quiver
to shake, shiver and quake
always trim the alabaster
with an ecumenical salve.
Soul found in this world of old,
May not be what you have been told.
To find a soul,
As old as mine, would be a journey.
A mission finished in time,
While running on faded blurred out lines.
To find a soul,
as old as mine.
I would have to run the lines of time,
to see the soul, waiting there.
Waiting there for me.
Christmas has come ,
another year has passed and
another is yet to come ,
things have been lost and
things are yet to come but , who knows
what in life will be done .
5 days you have to pack your past ,
leave all the burdens and sorrows
and yet a different light cast .
Pray a little not to God but yourself
for you deserve not the better but the best ,
Believe and have a little faith in life
and eventually everything will fall in line.
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the curves of your neck, your eyelashes that flutter.
the brown in your eyes, the barely there pink of your chapped lips.
the bumps on your cheeks, the smoothness of your hands.
the width of your shoulders, the space between your eyebrows.
the way your shadow looks as the spotlight's on you.
van gogh, da vinci, munch, and michelangelo,
they'd all be ashamed,
for they could never make art in the form of you.
My wish more than my wonder...
Do you feel it when I touch you with a virtual touch?
Through this endless radius calibrated in miles?
Through our wake and sleep in opposite world clocks of time?
Do you hear that clang of Something merging Somewhere?
Chunks of you and me,
A noiseless meteorite collision in a deaf space,
An alien vacuum pulsating with wavelengths of shared reverence ,
Birthing an uncanny nucleus, a chain reaction for thirsting,
Helpless effervescence in the test tube of rights and wrongs,
This peculiar rejoinder of an organic equation,
Our mutual diamond delicately concealed in the coal-d heart of commandments.
I try to simplify, turning to basic mathematics for hope,
Learnt in nascent classrooms, a straight line- shortest distance between two points,
sit down to draw one, between us, juvenilely trying to connect you to me,
I stop, when I realise, that I cannot even do that,
for I have lost myself.
Can you tell me where?
Walking through the mist
Barely seeing anything but haunting faces,
Making me feel as though I am a time traveller,
Caught in a present where he does not belong,
As an integral part of an experiment he had no choice in joining,
And when he hits the line between chaos and order
With enough force to divorce such fault, and mix it,
It becomes himself.
It becomes me
So thank God for this mist
That I may not see the evil that is me,
And live the good that is the rest