Death is as inevitable as snow,
Much like windmills on a still day,
Death is the silence of all things.
Death is too late, like snow,
It is never enough, never in time,
Too many tragedies have happened,
And death is too late.
In the distance, clouds cover the moon,
In the distance, mist still descends on the streets,
In the distance, the image of a thousand dying lights,
In the distance, death is still too late.
Of all the tragedies that have played themselves out,
With no agency of their own, just the intersection
Of a million objects in space, death is still too late,
Death is too little to assuage this grief,
That springs from existence itself.
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 2:38 PM UTC
She is sunlight, passed through a prism,
She moves like the breeze through a door,
A springtime promise that never leaves.
She is the heartbreak of a thousand dreams,
She is my shadow, My soul, my tired eyes
After a long day's work.
She is the morning, she is sunrise over the rooftops,
She is dew on every blade of grass,
A petal on every flower.
Aug 29, 2020
Aug 29, 2020 at 1:20 PM UTC
An old photograph falls out of a folder,
Like a silent leaf in autumn, so silent,
That I wouldn't have noticed it, save
for the glint of the paper, reflecting,
the only lightbulb in my room.
What does the photograph show?
Is it a window to my soul? Is it
the ghost of my past, a thousand regrets
manifesting themselves like an apparition.
I do not recognize the boy in the photograph,
Memory doesn't serve me well anymore,
Moments like these are a lifetime away,
I have forgotten what it was like,
this past life that doesn't exist anymore.
Where is this place, the whitewashed pillars,
the tin roof, the stone walls, the vast cedar trees.
I remember faintly, voices, thoughts, emotions,
that I have lived in the life gone past,
come back to me.
And yet, all is still unfamiliar.
Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 3:25 PM UTC
A mist descends upon me,
Like a kiss from the sky.
And you are far away, between us
A thousand miles and rivers.
Mountains outstretch their arms,
Into the plains.
I am still sitting here, untouched by the world,
Gently caressed by Time and every moment
Away from you, Is wasted.
Music enters my ears but is silenced
By memory, your voice gently drowns it,
Till all around me is a shadow
And only your lips are real.
My eyes wish for rest, the mist still descends,
I will walk no more, I will wake no more,
I welcome this end, this quiet silence,
Sleep is when I see you again.
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 6:27 PM UTC
In the pantheon of the Gods,
Only one is missing, and seated across the horizon,
Time sits in Mortality.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 5:26 AM UTC
The silence of the world is the stillness
Of my heart stretching to eternity
When I think of you.
The blue of the sky separates into vermilion,
an evensong that reminds me,
How much I will love you,
even after my body is ash
and my mind a forgotten whisper.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 11:15 AM UTC
She's my Eden, an endless waterfall ,
Sourced from the sky.
Shes my oasis, a distant lake I escape to,
Where eternal sunsets shine vermillion.
She looks at me with eyes,
That caress my soul and soothe my burning shame.
She's my evensong, my last shining light,
The receding tide, eternal Eventide.
And years from now her eyes,
Shall read these words and she'll turn away
From the bus that would take her far from here.
She will come back to being
Both my shadow and my soul.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
I was told once, that memories meant nothing,
They withered into the ether of forgetting,
And yet, I have found that the mind
Is a vast city, the streets little strands of emotion
that join vast boulevards of emotion,
To lead us to buildings that are memories.
Even as I wish to bulldoze this skyscraper,
that is the memory of her,
I find the boulevards that lead to this magnificent ruin,
Will leave me longing for too long.
If this Palace of dreams, woven in the fabric of time,
Is brought down to rubble,
What would the landmark be?
It would be the ruin, and the memory of it being destroyed,
Would bring me to my knees.
A skyline stretches out, much like Mumbai and New York,
Los Angeles and London,
And the towers that stretch outward to the sky,
Are the projections of her and me,
forever stamped till Alzheimers consumes me like a storm,
or Death liberates me.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
I'll wait for her calls in between shifts at work,
Or in between chapters of textbooks.
I'll wait for her voice to greet me through the static,
Having traveled five thousand kilometres.
It'll be love, it will be quiet,
and every time I see her on the limited rectangle of my screen,
Distance is an illusion.
In time, I will meet her, a roaring aeroplane will tear across the sky,
Over seas and oceans, mountains and wars,
and upon landing, in a timezone far away,
past the corridors and waiting rooms,
amidst throngs of waiting people,
I'll see her and it will be better than a thousand dreams.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
If my blood should flow through these streets,
In rivulets and streams through gutters and boulevards alike,
Tell them that long after my blood has dried
My body shall rest in a square of land
that will be forever India.
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC