twice starts the day
for those who have
masks to change
roles to play
------------
no one knows
where it ends
the journey that begins
pure as spring
----------------
i won't mind a thing
if you so desire
but, it is my minding
that you did long admire
-----------
like anyone else
i'd be born to die
again and again
and over my sighs
-----------
who tells you
i can survive
what they don't know
i long back died
--------------------
believe not anymore
i am done with all
not a single hope
remains under my control
---------------------
there was no certainty
that death would come
until we broke few promises
until we betrayed some
-----------------------
my mind is fickle
conditioned into doom
but yours is no different
so certain our fates loom
-------------------------
i may be your first doubt
but i am my last fear
i am not willing to give up
what my soul is ready to bear
--------------------------

On the busiest of days,
even prettiest of faces,
can sulk into nothingness.

Where is the smile
she used to have,
at the time when it all started.

Reassurance is gone,
And so is self-belief,
I might ask, 'what you did?'

Look back, you would find a way,
look back, if you want,
for pearls often are left behind.

During those hurried hours
of the flight to well-being,
when you race past everything,

Surging on like unceasing greed,
you outstrip your own noble deeds;
look back,
for pearls often are left behind.

He had a rugged face
that held forth
an insolent attitude.

He cursed under each breath,
and denied life its reverence,
on more than one occasion.

So, when he cried,
no body cared,
no body even looked enough.

For if they had,
they could see
his wounded heart

That was struck
by a bullet
and was bleeding him to death.

Because, he just had rescued
a young girl
from the local brothel.

Stains on his cloth,
were green and brown,
for he had helped her run
through the entire forest.

His name was unknown,
but even though
he was a stranger,
he resembled the brave,
represented the noblest,
the gone and the present,
who belonged to everyone.

It was the usual tick-tock,
but it spun at a different time,
a time of merrymaking,
a time, of mirth & laughter,
of castles & soldiers,
of kings & folks,
of a princess very beautiful,
of a prince miles distant.

The clock was unmade,
but the sound was there,
of two hearts,
which beat as fast.

A story sprang forth
between the quiet intervals,
between the two far-aparts.

They wove a saga timeless,
and hence,
we are sitting across,
under this bonfire,
eager to know,
what love is like,
what makes its sound,
the tick-tock?

Our paths crossed,
our thoughts collided,
somewhat she wondered,
somewhat did I.

Both, amused, paused,
spoke one at a time,
listened one at a time,
our destinies merged.

Songs were made,
music hauled,
smiles rushed in,
a story composed,

Until the last day,
when she bade goodbye,
our hands disjoined,
and eyes met for a split second.