when dust will come closer to you
you'll turn grey
under that withering veil
under that thin mist.
when it will ****** the thunder
& the splendour of your eyes,
If you see,
that vigour fleeting, quietly
If you ever call for me
If I still dwell in love and fear
and I see
that giant fire of that concealed anxiety
I'll place your head
upon my *****
and my hands will reach to your hairs
deep in my chest
If I see fire too
I'll be fire too
when we are together
I'll be you
You'll be me
We'll be fire
Again, for the first time.
that you feel
what love is!
I am smitten with the idea of you
probably that I seek in your presence too
I pace to match the rhythm of my thought
Chasing! Chasing ! Just chasing!
Crying with the empty hand.
I do not try to possess you at all
I would not like if you act just as I say you to do
I am no commander of any.
But you didn't live anymore
You, the one, I fell for.
I don't seek your grave to sink my head into
And lie about how beautiful I see the world with you
Now when I asked you for some time in isolataiton
My ink must fly as it wish to.
The words which were used uselessly
had lost their vanity somewhere
abandoned by attention
Have broken their shackles
tempted to be inscribed into the sabotaged
Celebrating their world today.
I would love to cherish the warmth of your zeal
Me in you is a high saying
If your ever breathe you
I'll be smitten by you again.
I am naked
I allow you to penetrate through me.
And meet me as nothing.
But I am afraid,
Bring me the audacity
to break the shield of notions.
To wipe of the dust
of a dozen of books.
To uncover the embelished shawl of
Experiences, judgements, oblivion.
pseudo security and pseudo comfort.
that has been morphed according to the convenience with beliefs.
I will reflect you crystal clear.
Cause your naked and mine aren't so different.
Cause I am as empty as you are.
Oh! That unfazed bird,
not only tries to fly higher and roam around.
But touches the ocean with her delicate belly,
Oh! That brave fella,
Nobody asks what she is pinning to achieve,
May be a twinge of pleasure in the peculiar sense of freedom.
Everybody sees and adores,
that magic she is leaving behind,
in the form of ripples
in that giant ocean.
All the desert,
even the sky swept.
What they fuss ?
"I" is not separate from "us",
"I" is separating the "us".
Holding the umbrella
So the mizzle won't touch her
And she brags all the time that she likes rain.
May be it's an escape
from the huddle
Where she doesn't want to be seen
not even by herself
to forget the consciousness of her own existence.