How would you wish to envisage this transience,
now, that you have ascended this mortal realm;
Thousands of references under your options
now select, with your gifted conscience.

Maybe the reference of an orphan
thriving under the rich's shade,
wandering under the lights of merry families,
disappearing as the nights fade?

Or an angle of a just born lover,
with echo reverberating by her forever's bed,
as he holds her hand, breathing promises,
and unconsciously tethered to his last breath?

How about a trusted devotee of the deity,
a mother who just got sent
in resonance to her prayers, an apology letter,
from her beloved son's regiment?

Or maybe the man bearing the joy of his life,
on shoulder so trivial and fragile
an anonymous griever, as they called him,
the pallbearer of his best friend's casket?

So how would you wish to envisage this transience,
now, that you have ascended this mortal realm;
How would you improvise these incidents
Written under destiny's poetic license?

Look out for the flickering lights
I heard some glass cracking
shards geting swallowed by the hurricane's tyranny
and the tyranny pleading at patriarchy's feet.
Look out for the desparation
penetrating out of rough gilded eyes
flowers wrapped in hands withering over time
and love swirling among rusted frames
   in oldest bus stand of town.

Softness is the night
Where quiet petals drift
In a silken web of light
A silent lullaby

There was a look in her eyes, when he wasn't home;
now, it lingers there all alone.
The dimmed candlelight, seems out of frame;
as it flickers the names etched on the stones...

He said, "Our names must be there-
on the wall of destiny.
Oh! don't you cry;
When I am gone, honey."

The candle burns once more,
A silver name on the midnight's glow.
As she traces her finger on the wall before,
She knows he's lying down below...

The fire rises ominously,
transcending boundaries-
engulfing pieces of shredded
papers written lovingly.

Love is in the rain,
and among the thunder
Love is inside every bird,
shot down by a hunter.

Love touches the horizon,
wandering all around the sea
Love sits still inside every heart,
waiting to be free.

Love hangs in thick air,
creating dainty spots on grass
Love is inside every dust particle,
settling down on a carcass.

Love is among the crowd,
penetrating wide and afar
Love is inside every boy
who has lost his father in war.

Love is in the colours,
spread out on life's palette,
But is love inside every man,
having a heart so scarlet?