O water
bitter salt water
come fill my eyes
empty my dreams
O water step down from these
mountain slopes
faint smoky valleys shall come your way
pass them
a village will come, my home
go to my home
empty my dreams
On these mournful silent nights
stay wide awake
if you find tiny birds caged in my eyes
free them
melt these seasons heavy with snow
turn the seasons green
empty my dreams
O water
bitter salt water...
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 6:31 AM UTC
At the beat of the rain
let my feet move-
as the wind turns into itself,
let me dance towards and within
by this Soul
As a silent prayer,
let my hopes rise,
And in the ink of this darkness-
let me read all your truths,
by this Flame
With the sight of the moon
let my heart love,
this forgotten path to your door-
Let me come home again,
by this Life
Indeed this world will end
but let me see beyond,
for my journey is a timeless longing-
Let me walk through these eternal limits,
by this Self
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 6:04 AM UTC
Leaving this city of lights,
O you, who went away,
to a distant dream, a distant land,
deserting our world,
what a trend you have set!
Flowers still bloom here, you see,
and hues still settle at sunset,
but the heat of dread
burns the buds on every branch,
and shades of separation,
replace our sunset.
Abandoning our world, O you who left,
what a trend you have set!
Little lamps are lit here,
and the bazaars too buzz with life,
but in the emptiness of the heart,
exists a single thorn,
and with that a desire for your glimpse.
You lit a lamp of longing in us, O you who left,
what a trend you have set!
It's true, we have nothing to give,
no buds in bloom, no dreams,
and who has ever returned
from a garden to a wasteland?
Indifference is the need of this time, you see.
It's true that our world,
is nothing but an empty desert,
slowly each candle burns out,
and life is nothing but a favour on this body.
but still, this wish of loyalty,
awakens and misses you sometimes,
and whenever Autumn comes in this sorrow,
it kills this restless soul.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 8:54 AM UTC
on leafy green
this tiny world
sparkling colours in distortion
reality bound in a single drop
of wet light
for reflection
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 7:24 AM UTC
Like an old torn page
stuffed into the back of a drawer,
or an unused box saved
and thrown atop a shelf
I have stacked some memories
and let myself forget them.
One day when I open that drawer
my hand shall find that page
that box may fall in my sight
my touch will lift the dust of age
and I shall see the cracks and yellow,
line those many names
like lost and faded faces
that smile through broken Frames
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC
A sea holds no secrets,
but memories long forgotten,
a passing sun of each day
slips into its depth, and settles
with stories from every shore,
which the sea has washed away.
Sand from a lonely walk,
Stone from an angry soul,
a sinking ship’s standing mast...
A huge treasure within itself,
lies unseen from human eyes,
all stolen from the past.
A growing tide may yet bring,
from the depth of the sea,
to the farthest of all shores-
A seashell, maybe, or a rounded stone,
a token from another time,
A moment washed ashore.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
Come to me by the moonlight, Beloved,
While the stars shine down this dark well
deep in the wilderness of my heart.
Come and draw the bucket, Beloved,
lift some sorrow slowly; take it away with you,
Empty this well a little, by the moonlight.
Smile as you turn from the well, Beloved,
As your shadow curls around the niches,
Let the bucketful of emptiness come back to me.
Each drop you take from this heart, Beloved,
Why does it always remain in here?
Why does it stay with me, still?
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 4:06 PM UTC
There is a map,
which I cannot read,
I trace paths upon unknown lands,
foreign names, and broken lines,
hoping to reach,
somewhere, some place in time.
The compass gently spins,
And the hourglass bleeds.
The map changes a million hands,
A million eyes gaze,
This way and that,
The paths I draw, interlink,
Traces criss-cross and overlap,
Inks run into each other,
And separate by centuries.
Time rests among the folds,
creases shut out history,
between visibles and invisibles
some distances decrease.
The compass gently spins,
And the hourglass bleeds.
This map remains before me,
still hidden and revealed.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 3:47 PM UTC