“What’s your favourite drink?
Really old scotch or champagne.”
“Nah!
Her wet lips.”

I Am A Selfish Lover
I love you in my own selfish ways.
Like other guys I don't claim to love you unconditionally.
I love you on a condition that you're going love me back.
I want you to be happy.
But I want you to be happy with me.
Yeah I'm overprotective sometime.
Sometimes "irrational" too.
But that has got a reason.
I can't lose you.
Because mere thoughts of spending the rest of my life without you
Gives me nightmares.

Deep eyes
Irresistible lips
Erratic breathing
Intertwined bodies
Passion of love.

His smile,
Slow and seductive,
Was enough to make her imagination
Go wild.

A Promise for forever
Is a double headed sword.
Whether you make a promise or
Break one,
Either way you are *******.
Be careful.

What if I tell you that
This world is going to end
And that end is not too far,
You probably won’t believe me.
Allow me to take you to a journey
A journey to the end of the world.
A world without a hint of greenery.
A world with all sorts of armaments but no food and water.
A world congested with people.
A world infected with diseases.
A hot world on the verge of a cold war.
A world with numerous machines but no fuel to run.
A world with no shred of humanity.

She was vengeful.
But against whom could she retribute her vengeance?
The rich guy who ***** her and ruined her life?
The police for harassing her in the name of interrogation?
Lawyers who tormented her and ***** her all over again with the twenty questions?
The inconsiderate jury who were bent on paying their children's school fees?
The lab assistant for lying to the jury that she had absolutely no sign of being ***** and she was making this up only because she got pregnant in the act?
The parents and teachers of the evil vandal who made him that way?
The media who were more interested in making it to the front page rather than sympathizing with her?
The government for taking safety precautions so lightly?
Neighbours who looked her down with contempt?
Or herself for not being strong enough to protect herself.
Whom could she blame?

Let me tell you something.
Something which may seem
Difficult to digest
Or counter-intuitive.
Your enemies are your best friends.
You must be wondering
What the hell?
But seriously your enemies are your best friends.
No one helps you more than your enemies.
They think of you better than anyone.  
By being on lookout for
Your slips and weaknesses,
They always keep you focused-
Always at your toes.
They help your realize your true potential.
They bring out the best of you.
They never let you dawdle.
They never deceive you
Or blandish you.
They reveal your loyalties.
Above all
Nothing beats the pleasure of
Beating your enemies.
Don’t all these make them your best friends?

“Repetition", he said, "bores me.
I like things new and fresh.
That’s why I never get committed.”
“No", she said, "that’s not the reason.
Don’t you enjoy every time you watch a sunrise?
Don’t you enjoy listening to your favourite music on repeat mode?
Don’t you like reading novels?”
“I do listen to my favourite music over and over again. After a few repetitions, I will change it certainly.
I do enjoy reading novels. But every time I read, it is new one.”
And there she stood clueless,
Looking for right reasons for him,
As he walked away,
Probably thinking he won a battle,
Without even considering
That he may be losing the war-
A war within himself.
“He didn't mention sunrise though.
Did he forget to mention it or
Did he leave it purposely?”
She wondered as she watched him blend in the crowd.

Did you know
Our thoughts can interact with the physical world?
So, hope and wish.
But remember they need a medium to be reality.
No one but you are that medium.

My dreams and ambitions were bottled up, so was I.

We were having a good time
Or at least I was.
Then she said she lost her confidence
Not just one area
She said in every field
Even the fields she used to excel
And she thinks I am responsible
Some way or other I made her lose her confidence
Self-belief and self-worth.
I demean her all the time.
And it was there from a long time
She even had to consult her sister.
But she dare not talk with me
Am I that fearsome?
Did I not make her feel comfortable?
Everyone else could see it clearly happening in her
Except I who happens to her boyfriend
Unfortunately for her.
Do I need to change something?
Or is it something that can’t be fixed?
‘Cause it is just the way I am.
But I won’t be the reason of her downfall.
If it does not work, I will probably leave her for good.
I want her to flourish and live her dreams.
I can’t be selfish with her.

I saw her burn in fire.
I saw my dreams turn into ashes.

It is another Sunday in the winter.
I am properly tucked in my quilt.
I browse through the top headlines of the hour.
It says the temperature outside is two-degree centigrade and I quit
all ideas of leaving my quilt.

Sundays in winter were my favourite days
and letting me play on Sundays my cookies
for reading properly for six days.
Those Sundays, which seem to be distant memories,
are some of my best memories.

Saturdays were the days of preparation.
Arranging bats, *****, and bicycles, at least, four,
deciding time and venue for the action,
making strategies to sail us ashore-
were some important tasks to be completed before.

I used to sleep a bit early after setting
up a thousand alarms, in case I missed a few,
to ensure I woke up in the morning.
and then I would make a few
calls to wake up the crew.  

Though while gearing up,
I would move as little as possible
my Mom would always wake up
and then I had to wear all the clothes ‘cause cold air made you susceptible
to sick and sick made you feeble.

Before I could leave home, I had
to close the door as slowly as possible
because I didn't want to wake up Dad
for he was predictably unpredictable
and it was too risky a gamble.

We dared not look into uncles 'n aunties'
eyes while asking our friends to come to play
for their looks could terrorize
anyone. We'd then go to the decided play-
ground on the shared bicycles without delay.

Quarrels to bat at the top,
the endless running around to save a few runs,
‘barking’ on fellow players lest catches they drop,
heated discussions on run-outs-
these memories still give me goose bumps.

The celebrations after winning the matches and
blaming each other for losing were
the customs of the day and
mom made ‘chicken’ and a good after-
noon nap - a perfect finish for a day to remember.

A lifetime has gone by
since we last played together
and bade each other goodbye
but those memories still lurking somewhere
inside our brains adhere us together.
I usually do not write about myself or my memories, which makes it special. Those days are some of my best memories. And in a cricket crazy country like ours, many definitely have similar memories.
© Devashish Kumar

Her lips,
Red as blood,
Have a hint of mischief.

Her hair,
Dark as a moonless night,
Twirls gently in the proud breeze.

Her cheeks,
Pink as a baby,
Make the mirror jealous.

Her skin,
Smooth as silk,
Is a flawless canvas.

Her eyes,
Blue as an ocean,
Are treasures of her hidden emotions.

Her touch,
Soft as a mother’s,
Can make any pain go away.

Her voice,
Melodious as a nightingale's,
Will drift you into an oblivion.

Her smile,
Sweet as honey,
Could make Mona Lisa shy.

Her gaze,
Steady as an eagle’s,
Is unreadable.  

She,
Bewildering as mother earth,
Is a rainbow of emotions.

It is a ******, Mom.
Don’t you realize it?
I am you and Dad’s love.
I know it’s difficult to have me in your womb.
But it is all worth.
I’ll make you proud, Mom.
Please don’t **** me.
Please don’t let me die, Mom.

It is a ******, Dad.
Don’t you realize it?
I am you and Mom’s love.
Why do you hate me, Dad?
'Cause I am a girl.
It’s a woman who gave birth to you.
It’s a woman who shares your every pain and joy.
I’ll make you proud, Dad.
Please don’t **** me.
Please don’t let me die, Dad.

Mom, don’t you want to bathe me
and dress your little girl like a princess?
Don’t you want to make my breakfast
while Dad makes me ready for the school?
Don’t you want to comb my hair
when it gets all messed up?

Dad, don’t you want to hear me say my first words?
Don’t you want to hold my fingers
and help me walk?
Don’t you want to clap
as I sing a song for you at the school concert?
Don’t you want to see your little princess
walk down aisle in a beautiful gown?

I want to dress up like Cinderella.
I want to tell everybody I'm Daddy’s little girl.
I want to dance gracefully like a ballerina.
I want to help you, Mom, with daily chores.
I will teach you how to make new delicious dishes.
We’ll watch movies together.
We’ll visit places together.
I want to be a teacher just like you Dad.
I want to help kids learn.
Please don’t **** my dreams, Dad.
Please don’t let my dreams die, Mom.

They have laws against foeticide.
But what’s the point of coming to this world,
when the persons supposed to love you most want you dead?
In already cruel world where crime against women are rampant,
how I am going to survive
without your love.
Please **** me, Dad.
Please let me die, Mom.

Touched by his *******
I shivered
‘N when he entered me I realized
Life is all about loving and making love.

It was a complete mess.
Loads and loads of things,
From soiled hosiery to paper cups
From books to each piece of clothing I ever had
Were thrown everywhere around in the room.
The whole place looked robbed.

Cleaning the room and keeping things in order
Was never my responsibility.
It was hers.
She would nag about it all the time.
She would ask
What I’d do without her.
This was the one question I never wanted to know the answer.

May be that was why,
I was reluctant to clean the place.
Deep down, I believed,
If I waited long enough,
She would figure I could not manage without her
And she would come back
And clean up the mess.

But weeks had gone,
I still had no clue about her whereabouts.
Why would she do that to me?
I was the love of her life.

“Enough is enough.
I am going to clean this mess.
I don’t need her.”
Enraged, I decided to start with books.

Books were the second best thing in my life.
They’d keep my company always.
Then I saw the book, which she bought me
When we moved to the countryside.

As I picked that book,
A small turquoise-y peacock feather fell.
The falling feather brought to me
A series of memories-
A mix of sad and happy moments with her.

After we moved here, we went to a park
In hope, it would cheer me up.
And it did cheer me up.
We played, we laughed.

At a distance, there was a peacock,
Boasting its colourful feathers.
I’d never seen a peacock before.
Amazed, I found a feather it had left behind.
Which I insisted to keep.
She placed it in the book
We just bought.

I still tremble sometimes,
When sights of my drunkard father beating her cross my mind.
He would abuse her and do sick things to her,
Still she would say he was my father
And I ought to respect him.
How could I?

And one time, he beat me.
He beat me with a belt
Because she bought a ‘stupid’ book for me
Instead of a bottle of bear.
That was the last time
I’d seen him.
She decided we would move away
Without any second thoughts.

“You’re meant for great things.”
She would always say.
She did odd jobs,
Tailoring, waitressing, private tutoring,
So that we could manage my school bills, rent
And square meals a day,
Probably ignoring health and physical wellness.

She sacrificed everything for me.
When she’d me, she left her job to look after me.
After we moved here,
Things were supposedly normal.
But she was going great troubles
To make ends meet,
With a smile on her face, she kept going.

At that instant, I knew she would never leave me.
She was still watching me,
Probably telling the stars
About her 'childish' son.
“I will make you proud.”
I promised to my Mom, my hero.

…  And I am still trying.

I wanted to drink away pain, instead it drank me.

Time we have been together
All come back to me now.
I don’t want to go away
But you left me no choice.
The places we visited
The nights we spent in each other’s arms
The movies we watched
The gifts we exchanged
The parties we rocked together
The promises we made
The tight hugs
The passionate kisses
The songs we sang together
The tough times
The happy moments
All are coming back to me.
I wonder whether
It is the day of parting
Or the day of gathering?
But this is the final good bye.
But this is the final good bye.

You can’t fence her in.
It’s like holding back the wind.
No matter how high you build your walls,
She’ll crack them open.
She’s a wild beast, not t'be tamed.

She was broke.
She was in a lot of pain.
She was shattered into a thousand pieces.
She needed help.
More than help perhaps.
I was there, but could not.
I wanted to drink all her worries.
I wanted to light up her dark world.
I wanted to kiss away her every pain.
I wanted to fill her every void with my endless love.
I wanted to touch her every scar and make them go away.
I wanted to stick back all her broken pieces with my warm embrace.
I wanted to put a warm cosy blanket on her, so that she could sleep tight.
I wanted to tell her that she was the most amazing woman I’d ever known.
But I could not.
Because we were just friends.

I sometimes feel that I don't feel
Irony isn't it ?
But it isn't so.
I do feel things.
I do feel cared when someone cares for me.
I do feel when someone is being friendly with me.
I do feel that I have got feelings for her.
I do feel happy when I make my parents proud and happy.
I do feel loved when my younger brother calls me "Bhaiya".
I do feel responsible when my lovely sister puts her head on my
shoulder.
I do feel bad when my parents scold me.
I do get hurt when she ill-treats me.
I do feel ignored when she dodges my call.
I do feel irresponsible when my assignments aren't complete on time.
I do feel wasted when I don't get good grades.
I do get panicked when my examinations are close.
I do feel ecstatic when someone wishes me.
I do get bored with "stupid talks".
I do feel ambitious when some opportunities come across.
I do feel good when I see some "beautiful" girls.
I do feel happy when I see kids playing.
Yeah, I feel things.
But I'm scared
I'm scared that if I let myself be happy for one minute, then my
world's going to come crashing down.
That's why I keep a distance from "being happy".

Fulfilling my father’s dreams,
I forgot to dream.

Wanting to be the first in everything,
I forgot to enjoy.

Building a house,
I forgot to make a home.

Reading about love,
I forgot how to love.

Meeting new people,
I forgot to make friends.

Wanting too much,
I forgot to offer.

Running to beat time,
I forgot to stay.

Waiting for her,
I forgot to live.

As the relentless sun sets, a rich velvet of black engulfs the sky.
Under it, hang the twinkling stars with the strings of yearning.  
The night’s tranquil silence and the impending darkness announce, it is time go home.

The long way to home is glistening with the soothing light of the waning moon.
The cosy bed awaits you to pack off your fatigue.
Swooping puffs of grey clouds play hide-and-seek on your way.

After the day’s tumult and exhaustion, it is time to lie down.
The shimmering stars welcome you to the hours of solace and unwinding.
The whispering of the leaves and the splashing water from a nearby waterfall make the perfect lullaby.

Go tenderly into the night.
Let the soft wind caress you the world of dreams.

With heavy breaths
Pounding heart
Perspiring temple
I woke up in the middle of the night.
Was it a nightmare?
Or what?
I looked at the watch.
3 AM it said.
I gulped some cold water.
And let my breaths settle.
I tried to sleep
But in vain.
“I’ll take a walk.”
I said to myself.
“A bad idea!”
No sooner did my feet retort,
I found someone’s still gaze upon me.
I’d never known him.
But something about him
Seemed familiar.
Was he a colleague of mine?
Or my milkman?
I smiled at him.
He smiled back.
Forced smile, noticeably.
With unkempt long hair
Sullen abysmal eyes
Wrinkles of stress
Head loaded down
Wrapped in shabby clothes
Lost he was in his own thoughts.
He looked troubled.
Did he lose someone special?
I decided to talk to him.
I started to walk in his direction.
Astoundingly he too moved in my direction.
“He too wants to talk to me?”
I thought.
We kept moving towards each other
Until he crashed into the reality
And I, into the mirror.

I am the big mighty old ocean.
Everyone is looking for pearls,
I have in my depths.
But I have a lot to offer,
Besides those pearls.

Infinite water I've is my experience.
And salts my bitter memories.
But I've come to terms with them.

I play music when I am bored.
The sound of the waves crashing at the shore is my melody.
I am good at dancing too.
You can witness my dancing prowess on full moons.

Nobody understands me as well as they think
Quite a many have tried to sail through me,
But only a few did succeed.

These rivers are like my sisters.
When they meet me,
All their problems are mine.

Thunderstorms are when
I make love to my darling sky.

These teeny-tiny stars are my kids,
Who are never too far.
Seeing them grow old is my favourite pastime.
Only they have a clue to find me,
And help get through me.

When you come to visit me,
I will wash your feet.
Come close,
For I am the mighty old ocean.

They say they want to be birds.
‘Cause birds have wings
Wings they can use to fly
Wherever they want.
But no one notices
The difficulties they undertake
Every time they leave their nests.
They even don’t know that
Their nests will be there or not
When they return.
They don’t know
What’ll happen to their young kids?
No one says these birds
Have to go miles to find
Their food.
After toiling for the whole day
They’re able to feed
Themselves and their kids.
Their much treasured freedom is constantly in danger too.  
Is being human that bad?
Or it is just that
We can’t show gratitude for what we are
And what we have got.

I have no one
But my shadow self.
He's the only person I can count on.
He guides me.
He follows me.
He listens to my crap without judging me.
He does not make me feel insecure.
He does not leave me when he finds someone better.
Above all he teaches me a valuable lesson
That no matter how inseparable
We're in our bright hours,
He's gonna leave me when it is dark.

Left at the altar of love,
She was damaged beyond repairs.
With unkempt hair,
Melted kohl,
Torn clothes,
Bruised shoulders,
She was waiting for him,
To come ‘n
Offer some explanation.

Sitting on the edge of the bed,
He was looking over the ‘to do list’.
This ‘to do list’ seemed to end never.
He’d to prepare a speech for Thursday.
He was to be presented with Director’s medal for his brilliant academic performance.
Everyone admired him.
But there was something missing in his life,
That made him think
Whether the things he had achieved would be enough
Whether they would make up for the lost time and people.
The crescent moon from the window of the room seemed to laugh at him
For it had got the company for stars.
The stranger in the mirror, as always, agreed with the moon.
As an ice-cold gust of wind filled the room,
He shivered making him feel a bit alive.
But when it subsidized the room became darker and quieter.
A moment later, his gaze shifted to the pictures hanging on the wall.
These pictures were the testimony to his achievements.
But the alien people in them reminded him of the big void in his life.
As the bright moon in the silver knife drifted away from him, he felt lonelier.
He stood up to make it stay.
And stay it did, till he found it moving away again in the dark red liquid
Leaving behind the fluttering ‘to do list.’

In the ***** green background,
There stands a flower,
Painted in the colour of love,
Flaunting her curvy petals,
Adorned with crystals of water.    
She brightens up,
As the mighty sun compliments her.
The gentle wind caresses her beauty
And spreads her intoxicating fragrance.    
The vibrant leaves dance around her,
Desperately trying to woo her.
She smiles at those poor leaves.
But a little insect wins her over,
And drinks her nectar of youth.

In the early morning sunlight,
Pearly crystals of heptagonal raindrops
On ***** green grass
Disperse sunlight
Giving it a colourful background.
Cool breeze,
Birds’ chirruping,
Leaves' rustling
Fresh earthy aroma,
Make you forget
The other day’s scorching sun and listless wind.

They said she was beautiful.
For me, she was an angel.
She was divine and pure.
If God was an artist,
She were His masterpiece.
If beauty was in details,
She was perfect.
When smile kissed her beautiful lips
Even roses were shy of their existence.
When she spoke,
Cuckoo would hide in the bushes.
If Leonardo were alive,
She would have been his Mona Lisa.
“Then why did you give up on her?”
I never gave up on her.
I gave up on us.
Because she was too good to be mine.

Brain was a happy place where
all the memories lived together.
There were occasions of mistrust
but it seemed like a good place to live.

Like every society, there were
some unsocial elements in Brain too.
But the good memories could
keep them in control easily.

But something changed in Brain.
Negative thoughts came in large numbers.
They were heavily armed and
were well trained for combat.

The good memories, the core
defence of Brain, were helpless.
They lacked the necessary skills
and the “good will” wasn’t enough.

All the memories were terrified.
To make matters worse, the bad memories
colluded with the negative thoughts.
They leaked vital intel about the defence.

Once the good memories surrendered,
all hell broke in Brain.
The negative thoughts became unstoppable.
They tortured the memories to death.

In this time of terror,
the memories needed a leader.
Someone, they could look up to.
Hope came to their rescue.

Look me in the eyes
Admire my beauty
Come closer
Wrap me in your arms.
Put your fingers in my hair
Whisper in my ears
Kiss me with passion.
Exchange some saliva.
Exhale gently
Caress my flawless skin
Undress my intentions
Feel my skin against yours.
Drink my nectar
Fill my every void
Set me on fire
Love me like it is the end of the world.

Your mother went through infinite pain of carrying you in her womb.
Your father works day in and day out to make sure you don't sleep hungry.
Your sister parted with her jewellery just to make sure you could read.
Your brother stands by you in all the ups and downs of life
It does not stop here.

Soldiers spend sleepless nights at freezing altitudes to keep you safe from intruders.
Scientists work hard so that you can lead an easier life.
Artists allow you into their sophisticated mind through their beautiful works.
Musicians practice so that you can enjoy a soothing symphony..
Writers sacrifice their comforts so that you can lose yourself in good books.
Sportsmen toil in uncomfortable weather so that you can enjoy a good match.
Actors rehearse to make sure you forget your stress by giving you good movies.
Teachers cross all boundaries so that you are aware of the world around you.
Labourers work in dingy cells so that latest technologies reach you.
It does not even stop here.

Thousands of strangers have lost their lives so that you can enjoy "these" rights and liberties.
It's not done even now.
The Sun burns ever so fiercely so that you can enjoy bright days.
The glorious Moon lights up your nights so that you are fearless of the stark darkness.
And the Wind blows all day to keep you fresh.

Did I Just hear you say you don't deserve to live?

"I want this to last forever.”
And there it was forever.
Why is it difficult to understand that
Nothing lasts forever?
Why can’t we be happy for the moment?
Why can’t we embrace the moment
And forget the future?
Why can’t we be grateful for what we have right now?
Why can’t we make these moments count?
Why can’t we be happy for now?
Why does it have to last forever?
The joy of the moment is not measured with time,
But with memories.
Let’s live these moments in a way that
These moments stay with us forever.
Remember only thing that lasts forever is the fact that
Nothing lasts forever.

Hey Hi,
I am taking this opportunity to write to you, Love. I am a bit old-fashioned, you know. In this fast moving world of jets and satellite phones, I am still writing to you. To be fair, I will be using the internet for sending it to you. Still, it is different than sending texts.
Anyway, I am doing fine, if you are wondering. And I sincerely hope you are good too. You must be wondering why I am writing to you if I have not yet figured out who you are. I am in a very important phase of my life. I will be taking very important decisions which will affect both of us. I know you are going through the same. But I want you to know that whatever decisions you take and no matter where these lead to, we are going to find each other and fall in love with each other. There will be a few things we won’t be proud of. Those things don’t make us who we are. We are better than our mistakes.
Sometimes, we don’t know where we headed to. We hold no clue what’s special about us. What makes us different from others? Believe me, I understand that predicament. I have been through that too. Actually, I am still in that phase. It is okay if we don’t know what we are meant for. Yes, it is important to figure it out eventually. But there is no point of putting extra pressure on yourselves for that. Explore your options. Exploring is fun. You get to know about lots of things. Somethings interest you and some don’t. But the tough part is leaving something behind. You put so many efforts to learn and at the end when you have to leave, you feel kind of bad about it. It is alright. You don’t have to say goodbye to anything. They will be with you always, the memories.
I know you miss me. I miss you more than you can imagine. I do long for your company. The desire for holding you in my arms keeps me awake at nights. Listening to my favourite songs in your sweet caramel voice and watching movies and reading books together will be my favourite pastime. The slow wild, passionate kisses……. (Breathe in…………. Breathe out). But I will wait for these things. I will wait for you. And I know you will do the same because we are meant for each other. I have grown to realize that it is not just about the destination. It is about the journey. The long wait, finding you and falling in love with each other- everything will be part of our love story. It is worth the wait.
I know you too have lots of things to say to me. Write to me, if you please. It is said when you love someone truly, the world conspires you to bring the two together.

Yours

When I look at you,
I wish I were a poet;
So that I could describe the untouched beauty of
Your mesmerizing gray eyes ‘n tender carmine lips
Through words as beautiful as you.

When I look at you,
I wish I were an artist;
So that I could put every flawless detail of yours-
Every crevice ‘n curve
Elevation ‘n depression-
On the canvas.

When I look at you,
I wish I were a photographer;
So that I could prove to everyone that
You’re not just a figment of my imagination
You’re real.

When I look at you,
I wish I were a writer;
So that I could tell the world
How beautiful you look
In the moonlight;
‘N how my heart skips a beat
When you flip your hair.

When I look at you,
I wish I were a singer;
So that I could sing about you,
Drown in your aesthetic beauty,
Admire you,
‘N make you eternal.

When I look at you,
I wish I were a mind reader;
So that I could reach the depths of your mind
‘N light up all the dark valleys of
Worries and insecurities.

Suddenly I felt something weird, something different, something warm. She had put her hands on my hands. I never expected her do so. It was like I was living my dream. Her touch was electric. Her touch was assuring. She made me forget everything. My poor home, divorced parents, my frustrating job, my unrequited love, fatigue, worries, the uncomfortable weather- I forgot everything. It was the moment of pure bliss. Her warm touch was driving me nuts. I looked up. Everyone else was oblivious to the intensity of emotions at the back of public bus. I looked back down at her hands covering mine. We both turned our hands at the same time, as if she knew my thoughts, so our hands were palm against palm...finger against finger. It felt delicate. I felt being cared. I was holding her hands..

O Love, where are you?
I've been looking for you everywhere.

I looked for you in the gardens,
Among the lovely plants
And beautiful flowers.

I looked for you in the rivers,
Among the ever-expanding ripples
And playful fishes.

I looked for you in the mountains,
Among the snow covered peaks
And alpine trees.

I looked for you in the beaches,
Among the splashing waves
And round stones.

I looked for you in the deserts,
Among the sand dunes
And thorny bushes.

I looked for you in the meadows,
Among the grazing animals
And green grass.

I looked for you in the night sky
Among the tiny sparkling stars
And the crescent moon.

I looked for you in the fires,  
Among the threatening flames
And melting warmth.

I looked for you in the books and movies,
Among the heart-warming stories
And timeless characters.

But I found you nowhere.
Why are you hiding from me, my Love?
Aren't you looking for me, my Love?

Life is a game.
Rather a collection of games.
Games with different rules
Different skills
Rules evolving
Some individual
Some team games.
Some days you will be at top
Some days absolutely miserable
But you have to play always
Not just play
But put up a fight.
Some to be won
Some to be lost.
But you always learn.