I want my words
To rain down from the sky
And bring warmth to cold meadows

Late after midnight
Sitting
With  an imaginary quill
In hand
Stroking keys to form
What earlier today
I hadn't planned.
As I ponder,
The end state of all
In this material realm
Falling victim
To entropy
Which is the inch worm that,
With each second's movement,
Is munching the very essence
Of both, you and me.
Entropy at birth's beckoning
Is set in motion for all,
From miniscule microbe
inside our bodies
To the far - flung massive, invisible stars
That would boggle the mind,
In the end, the physical
Is swallowed whole,
Wherein the essence
Of what is, is measured
By the residue each entity
Sentient or not,
Leaves behind.

They asked me,
Who do you worship?
I replied,
The earth on which
She used to walk.

One day,
There will be
No other days
But memories.

Compassion radiates from the mind when it transforms into an endless reservoir for it.

Bent to a slouch,
unbeknownst…

That we walk
never unladen.

And perhaps only later,
burdened
by the wreaths
around our necks.

We hadn’t realised…

That we spoke of love
that was enshrouded
by child-like naïveté.

We had then,
fire in our hearts,
sparks in our eyes
and clouds in our heads

but

marbles in our mouths.