I am a thousand miles away
from knowing the complexities of a heart
when it knows not when to beat
but to stop when it is not supposed to;
when there are revolutions of changes
from summer to cold
from dust in the wind to a tale not blown away by mystery.
I’m not quite sure
I’m not sure of what it is -
that makes me want to look at you a little more than I should
or perhaps the struggle to make you look at me-
each day as it unfolds into the night
my eyes search for yours
and they will always-
never loose sight of you because they know their way back to you
you have guided them,
treaded a path so beautifully I sometimes question-
is it even real?
there is nothing more ecstatic than when you ask me to click you
there is in fact,
no joy that beats the feeling of when you want me to look at you
even through that **** lens.
I scan you, through and through
I now know each and every
on your silly face that you make when I tell you to smile
how your eyes reflect the light of the sun
what a sight it is to see those celestial eyes.
trap me in it
I take infinite pictures of you,
every chance I get.
every angle, every way, however you like-
just stand there
and let me look at you,
a quick gaze.
and maybe just maybe
perhaps see me through.
i've been gone for too long
stopped for sometime;
ran out of words
out of emotions or maybe feelings
of a deep, pitch black void inside of me.
but, it feels different now
as if i'm whole, maybe mended;
i enjoy lying on my bed on a sunday morning
as the sun spears my eye,
it doesn't hurt anymore.
i wrote a letter to myself after a long time,
and the first sentence was a happy one, surprisingly;
i wrote about a new jacket i bought the other day,
about filling my basket with flowers i killed,
only to keep them alive in my books.
i feel a change within me, a new spirit, rush
springing up in me, wanting to explode
for the first time,
i feel as if i'm back
back and alive;
The stars I see from my rooftop,
that gleam and twinkle amidst the sky.
They stay at place, their home I'd say,
Is where they were, and truly belong.
The wings I feel, the delicate wings,
of birds that share a profound sound.
They help me dream, as if I'm drowned,
In the thought of being, one amongst them.
The sun sets and rise, the glowing globe,
makes me wonder what it's like,
to be able to set and rise with it,
Up in the sky and down in sea.
My dream is not a void, neither is it an abstract need.
My dream is a closure of my raging thoughts,
knocking on doors to let it be-
A part of my deranged imagination.
It is but, a thought; let free.
All I wanna do right now
is break into pieces and
never be fixed again
Believe now, Death is just a wisper away/
I used to think, a lot when people said "He's an abstract painting, or she's a work of art, or how a beautiful landscape is always a personification, a magic CREATED by someone" and I used to always find myself pondering upon these lines hoping to find something better, so much better to compare my life and this place to. But I'd always fail knowing that there is no word ever created beautiful enough to describe this moment.
What I've learnt from this, is that you don't need words to describe something, all you need is- your eyes deep enough to appreciate this moment and your heart brave enough to feel it-all of it.
And I wonder if the wind would ever stop,
Causing us a breathtaking death.