I asked a flute player
if he ever missed the melancholy of his tunes,
the way they twist and travel in the afternoon silence.
When he sleeps at night all lonely under a big sky,
the bag of flutes by his side.
He looks like the Almighty Krishna if Krishna was ever lonely,
for he spends too many restless nights.
He said that the grief of loving is what we carry home,
the grief of knowing that death takes away all.
The melancholy of life that we all feel under our layers,
the loneliness twisting and paining our restless hearts like the tune he plays every afternoon.
The tune reminds me of death and life
and my loved ones still alive.
I hope this grief of knowing
too much does not drive me to insanity.
I wish someone could come and listen to my heart.

I wonder why melancholy
paints my soul a deep red
when midnight strikes,
And the colors on the clock change.
The firecrackers make noise,
And the world transitions
From one year to the next.
I wonder why nostalgia engulfs
the chaos of my winds
When time passes away slowly
On New Year's Eve.
I wonder how I could ever
Say gracias
To all those people who
Taught me, hugged me and
gave me the strength to live and love,
For my family and friends I am grateful.
I wonder why melancholy
paints my soul a deep red
When midnight strikes.
In this ever-present grief of how
Time passes away so quickly,
I reside, I reside.
I wonder why red fades
And green blossoms.
It is the way of life.

a divided soul
in ten billion pieces
one

As I trudged home from school one day
A sweet sight met my eyes.
Amidst the dreary clouds of gray
Flew millions
Of butterflies.
On painted, colored wings they fluttered
Delicately, all about,
And even a heart as hard as mine couldn’t have shuttered
Their bright joy
Out.
They frolicked gaily in the breeze
As my wonder-filled eyes watched from below.
Then like a dancing flower from the trees,
One landed softly
On my nose.
Its jewelled eyes gazed into mine
And peered deep into my soul,
And it shook its head sadly when it did find
An empty, aching, armored
Hole.
Its soft wings brushed against my cheek
As glistening water fell down my face.
It gave me a kiss, sweet and meek,
And with its fellows
Flew away.
Now, after heartbreak that pierced me so,
The butterflies’ kind gift remains.
For they opened a door inside my soul
And let me learn
To love again.

Why not.
Not why.