‘Vague memories, nothing but memories.’ – Yeats.*

Lost again are you in your thoughts?
The parades of events march you by.
Faces, nothing but faces.
Vague blurs of eyes, haunting your dreams,
Blank black backgrounds,
Sheer silence screams for significance,
Why can I not remember?
Touches, footprints, words left incomplete,
You go back, try to at least,
To print out your shaky emotions
For in record you will behold your sorrowful story,
Long absences of warmth,
Overwhelming joy of being wanted,
And the lies behind each and every sly grin.
You wait, any moment now, right?
You wait, with patience devoid of hope, you wait.
What are you waiting for?
Faces, nothing but faces.
They pass you by, soulless and aimless,
Without a purpose, they enter your existence.
Little acts which accompany a quite smile,
Shy in its being, hidden from judgment,
It exists.
Upon some isolate dark corner,
Palms upholding your sunken face, you sit,
On one corner of the bed
Among the sea of sheets lying ruffled,
You drift away.

A friendly smile, and that’s all that is needed,
For that ray of hope has penetrated,
Into the depths of my despair,
You had come to repair,
Every broken, battered part of me,
You became my wings and set me free.
I’m reaching out to let you know,
That when you admire that so called glow,
Which according to you,
You’ve seen so in few,
In my eyes, the glow that you see,
It’s because of you and me.
“Follow me”, is what you say,
And I will, let the world speak what they may,
I’ll follow you into the depths of the everlasting flames,
I’ll play life as a game,
For as long as I have you,
What do I have to lose?
And when my heart and soul is weary,
Eyes are wide and drooped and dreary,
Your arms are what I seek as heaven,
You are, and forever will be my salvation.
In your arms, take me back to the stars,
For few are not the scars.
Haunt me, my days, my existence,
Haunt me for I need the acceptance,
Of being worth a second look.
As of this hour, in your arms again you took,
The last hour of night, I rest,
In your unfailing love, I forever nest.
For happiness cannot be far behind,
With your grateful heart and peaceful mind.


Inspired mildly from the Bible, "Matthew".

A blur of green dancers,
Grouped, huddled together,
Movements, aimless as can be.
A slash of black, flies across the clouded background,
Descending, gracefully and effortlessly.
In flight, it ***** it’s means of freedom.
The brutes of buildings stand ugly,
As the horizon remain fenced.
Twisting and winding are the dull pathways,
Paved, covering the misery of life,
On which various realms of existence walk,
Some covered in shredded rags, barefoot and starving,
Some on wheels reclined in leather seats.
Bridges hang overhead,
Giant entities hovering,
Connecting people as well as destroying lives.
Yet life prevails as wonderers take use,
Of a corner enough only to fit half their soulless bodies,
And the constant four legged companion watches on,
By his side, always by his side.
For in the corners of hell, we find a savior,
A miracle is always to be born,
And an angel is always to be found,
Amongst the crowd of evil.

Mistake not my dark appearance,
Robed in black behind you,
To be evil, and unwanted.
For I am a part of you,
And you are my means of existence.
I am but your fallen half,
I consist of the wrongs you have done,
The miseries you have suffered,
and the evils you did not deserve.
Black with shame, I am never to leave,
For without me, you shan't know,
The rays of happiness.
And when the joy shines on you,
Without me, you wouldn't realize,
For you won't be able to see,
Just how much you have overcome,
And how far you've reached;
Since that first cry of innocence,
To that last laugh of surrender.
I am you, yours and only,
To follow you to the grave as promised,
And possibly beyond,
As your shadow, we are tied,
Never to part, right?

He walks, he strolls, he runs.
With varying paces he controls everyone’s existence.
Clocked with age, hooded with hatred,
Shredded and withered is the cloth which entangles him,
A dark, unwanted figure,
Lurking, waiting.
Humanities’ burden on his shoulder,
Their tears and suffering etched on his skin,
He is scarred with our mistakes.
Hater of joy, he lives,
Making the clock gallop as the laughter pours,
The hours are lost behind the happiness,
And all that’s left is foreboding, longing.
His vicious cycle pays heed only to the troubled ones,
Making them wait in pain and suffering,
Stretching time, making their souls older than they are.
But by doing so, he heals,
He slowly but gradually stops the tears,
By offering the dragged hours, he looks after them,
Registers every move,
And gradually their lives are put back into track.
Their existence is scarred, souls aimless,
But they live on, and that’s what matters right?
He is time, and time is all we need,
For love and hope are temporary,
Time with its experience, rules over them,
Without time, they are mere momentary lapse of nerves.
Hidden behind everyone’s story.
He will bring you to life,
And when he feels your time has come,
He will accompany you, till forever and beyond.
For he is the holder of forever,
He is time, the healer.

Mistake not my smile for joy,
A temporary lapse of nerves to be more precise,
For the cold, dark cloud of memories, long lived,
Lingers till time is run out of its misery,
And as death, a friend, with its arms so charming,
Comes to get you, to save you, to free you,
You welcome him as your Savior.
Mistake me not to have forgotten,
To have ignored the feelings, that till today,
Only grow stronger in your absence,
To drown me in tears of regret, of blaming myself,
Oh, where did I go wrong?
“Enjoy life” was your last statement,
Is it even possible to be taken under consideration?
When my heart is with you, miles away, a place unknown?
We are but old souls,
Flying about, drifting through the wind,
Wanting to start again,
Waiting, for that one thing, lost.
And as we wait, we watch,
How they smile, how they laugh,
How they’ve ‘moved on’,
How they enjoy life,
And as we witness these angels shine their smile,
The life out of us is drained,
****** out by a whirlpool of hollowness,
A bottomless misery prevails upon us,
And we are left to toss and turn,
On lonely nights by ourselves,
In the parade of memories,
Thoughts of yesterday, lived all over again,
Questions of ‘what if’s and ‘why’s,
Orbit our minds,
Hearts are left blank, often forgetting its rhythm.
Lifeless, we live on,
Daydreaming, our only therapy,
Smiling, our means of denial,
Crying, our source of drainage,
Remembering, our dose of torture.
Mistake not my young years to be just a number,
For I have died, with every blink, I have died,
Without you.
But my dear, I do look forward,
To a day when our souls will meet again,
In some distant unknown land,
Eyes weary with experience and tears,
Faces tired of pretentious smiles and laughter,
Hearts, aching and bleeding,
Minds exhausted of thinking and wondering.
For hope is all I’ve got, the only light to show the way,
To a time when there will come a day,
When we’ve left this life for the ones to come,
A day when our old souls are set free,
A time for the old you and me.