I'm so terrified
But I wanna be different
Reckless and happy
Staring at the stars
Open bottle beside me
But I'm worried
And concerned
And there's nothing I can do

"Go Slow", I told my life in January
"I want to take this journey at your pace"
"I want to build those bridges again"
"I want to complete you as I would always want"

"Hello!” I heard a call from the near far.  
Was it really a response from the healing heart of February?!
"I hold the right to set your pace"
"I hold the right to bless you sleeps"
“I hold the right to curse you sleeplessness"
“I decide the right for you in everything"

Until the obscene April summer turned up,
It was not life; but the Cyclone’s desire to fell everything en route.
I learned; there might be things to cherish
But would not want to own again

Rains in Kerala carry the rhythms of life
I once again made those paper boats
At my pace, as the 10 year old,
And as July demanded
Life grew deeper within, in that rhythm of rains
Nursing the one who nursed me for long
I learned, there are only cycles in life,
There is only movement in life

The flight took off, despite the pedantic reasons thrown over the tarmac
In that morgue of frozen mummies, I felt the futility of expectations
My Wings of fantasies halted, on top of the panoramic Great Wall
In the arc lights of award night, I enjoyed the pleasure of losing
Walking alone the Washington streets, I found the walks of life...

November comes concealing a lot; it conceive sorrows
It grows a detached attachment within and around you
November reinforces the relativity in everything
Life, love, respect, trust and confidence

I like the reds in December, it's flamboyance
I like the irony of "hope" brought in by this very end!
There are only cycles in life, no gains or losses
There is only movement in life, some forward
And some stuck in the maze and not knowing which way.

He is a song that misses a beat,
Something out of place,
At times makes sense,
Until the chorus begins,
Without much foundation,
Structures or goals,
Struggles to redeem,
He fits the puzzle until he leaves,
Fills a void that no one else can,
He leaves and returns to remind me,
That something is out of place...
And in the moment it all make sense

I tried
With all my heart
To weave together
A poem worthy of
The life of which
You have happily lived.

But I failed
For I do believe
There is not one
Living poet today capable
Of immortalizing such vibrancy
Within permanent black ink.

-ARI

Beneath the sunsets orange,
the green grass grows rich,
next to the blues of the river,
softly flowing through the meadows.

The days offering of warm rays,
struggles in it's last moments,
capturing the essence of beauty,
filling the soul with absolute bliss.

Nestled within nature's arms,
a deep and hot spark ignites,
spreading with a vicious hunger,
consumed by the pleasures of greed.

Embracing the comfort of solitude,
this forest, the only witness,
leaving untold secrets kept,
as lovers release their passion.