'tis but a unique picture of our inner soul that completes us
and
ignorance tears it apart.

I see an amorphous void in the turbulent dreams that seek my crepuscular spirit. A desultory nightmare that always comes back to me. This ethereal architecture has consumed my felicity.
Today it happened again;
... My boughs were merging with the strands of its web. I saw and heard the painful screams that were put to sleep and then disappeared. Alas, I felt that I watched my own future. That contraction brought me closer to its core. It was frozen, A platform where my spirit would finally be slaughtered...cocooned in its web.
I rammed on something cold, rather excruciating. I screamed and screamed harder.
Suddenly, my pain evaporated and I became numb. I realized that my existence was being erased. It was an end truly...BUT you save me every day.
you wake me up every morning and claim to love me the most, embracing me in your warmth, dear MAMA.

The sun I think is beautiful,
Rays come home.
The ocean I think is stretched,
Waves reach the shore.
The sky I think is endless,
Raindrops pour down.

Your arms are that home,
That shore,
That land which can soak me.
Forever, for eternity,
I will return to you,
Once should you call...

A blank paper is a blithe opportunity.
Thus to write is my choice.
What I feel regarding my fervent soul,
Would you like to know ?

In my dreams, I've been to places
never seen, with blank papers
so clean, lovely hills, trees, cattle and roses
Upon me, a canopy of the most beautiful pink skies.

Contended I wandered, lonely it seemed.
Understood the nature my elegiac being.
It walked, moved, swung with me
on a journey, I wished never did end.

All along I went groping in bliss,
All along I went roaming in bliss,
Again with the birth of dawn, this dream has an end,
with blank papers, I returned again.

I love this dream that lands me in peace
Love that nature which had cared for me
If I had to write someday, those blank papers
will hold the inscription: Life is a great poetry.

It is the most devastating experience
when all you did was a bizarre
happens to me as I lie down on my bed
sometimes with a glance at my mirror

The more I gather, the lesser it seems
From the piles of vague memories
I collect, recollect, forget
It slowly ends with absolutely no regrets.