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.

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.

The universe oscillates between life and death,
Hanging in the equilibrium.
Two forces beyond infinity
Will always be creation and destruction.
Memories are dying,
Moments are being lived for the first time.
Galaxies are exploding into multicolours.
Stars are fading into oblivion,
their glow dimming.
Nebulae are rejuvenating,
painting galaxies upon galaxies.
The sun, ever present
is burning its own energy.
The edges of time
are constantly unfurling.
Our body's remains are transforming
into mud and soil.
A tree grows, its branches are withering.
Vines are creeping on tree bark,
The butterfly is taking its first flight.
A bird is flying for the last time.
Somewhere, there's a beep emanating from a hospital machine.
The line goes flat,
The loved ones are crying
Tears of grief.
In the same building,
A new born's life is being celebrated,
The loved ones are crying tears of joy.
In the blink of an eye,
Waves crash
and waves recede.
In the blink of an eye,
The circle of life is being completed.
In the same second,
Humanity has lived a thousand lifetimes.
In the same second,
Humanity has died a thousand lifetimes.
For us, a lifetime passes.
For the universe,
It's a small oscillation.
An ode to the infinite
balance between
lives and deaths,
Creation and Destruction.
The dances of life and death
collide painting countless
cycles of life.
I take a moment as I pay
my gratitude to the universe
for including my circle of life
in its vast canvas.

I am just an image,
Like a flickering candle waiting to die
Like a glimpse of the sun on cloudy days
Like dead roses on my mother's grave
Like dried plants in the flower vase
Like the reflection in my lover's gaze.
I am just an image,
Like summer evenings spent on your porch
Like the first kiss that never happened
Like the scent of your perfume
Like the first time I saw you
Like one sided love and hopeless dreams
Like days that never end and nights that end too fast
Like thoughts that scare me
Like withered and dried sunflowers on my grave
Like my coffin's reflection in my mother's gaze
Like the life I wanted.
But at the end of the day
I am nothing at all.
I am just a  flickering candle waiting to die,
Just an image.
But all these memories that make
Me me are like fleeting winds
That pass away too quickly,
Sometimes too short for my liking.
Without all these moments, I am nothing
But just an image
In someone's eyes.

There was a princess
lost in and dazed by springtime sweetness.
Picture perfect gowns and rolling meadows,
In her Kingdom
Spring went on and forever.
People wished they lived at such a place,
evergreen flowers and the youth of nature.
Wished they could experience it all.
But the princess was locked inside her palace,
woe the young woman couldn't touch the flowers.
She sat there in her gloomy chamber,
looking outside to the greenest grass.
She was sad and numb but she danced in her room,
wore spring gowns for there was spring at her heart.
She breathed in spring air from within the cold walls,
An ever longing desire in her eyes to touch the spring flowers.
Little does she know for she is spring Herself,
So she touches her heart.

I lost a count of days
As they passed, one after another
A continuous seam blurring together.
As the flowers bloomed and the sun rose,
I forgot that summer was still too long, never ending like one single giant happy day.
A little bittersweet, mostly filled with silence.
Summer afternoons are never ending.
The trees are covered by a yellow hue, not a soul awake
As the shadows of children dancing on grass dances on the walls.
That used to be long ago,
Now afternoons are not an escape to have mischief your way rather dull and boring.
But the nostalgia of Summers long ago is exciting
It keeps me awake, sometimes the tears or a sad smile,
As I lose count of my days,
Waiting for the summer afternoon to pass
As the earth breathes and the birds rest.

A beautiful day in September,
The air is breathing yellow,
Painting the leaves golden
with each exhale.
Hues of autumn are unfolding
Warmth and tenderness intertwine,
With sunlight spreading on tree branches.
There's merry laughter in the hamlets,
Their laughter merges
with the sunshine laughing.
It is a reflection of
September's joy.
Somewhere the song of summer is ending,
But what a gift it is to be able to live
In September's warmth,
it protects me
From all sadness.