All I ever wanted to be,
was a Mender of Cracked Hearts.
But maybe I didn’t have the skills,
the touch, the strategy.
Or maybe a spirit possessed me.
And now strewn all across my inescapable path,
are painful, tormenting, glistening shards.
I can either tread the painful path
or be a Carpenter of Broken Hearts.
He threw a pebble in my emocean.
It silently sank to the bottom.
He was dry. He caused no commotion.
he threw a boulder in my emocean.
A small splash. It sank.
He got a little wet - tears rolled down
in slow motion.
Every muscle burning,
he pushed a mountain into my emocean.
A big splash. Inevitably, it sank.
He was drenched. He caused a lot of commotion.
Mustering all his will,
He shook my crust, my foundation.
A giant wave, as tall as the sky, rose
and swallowed him. He drowned
in my emocean.
Oh, bird of expectation,
whence do you come?
From a branch inside me
or from other trees under the sun.
When your instruments break into song
and the dam of melody bursts asunder,
do I hear a trill of disappointment or
a harmony of praise and wonder?
You hop on the sill of a window
that looks out on tomorrow.
I try to capture you with my small fingers
but all you do is grow and grow.
You become a giant bird, so fell and fair
with wondrous plumage so dull and bright.
I must either scale your pinions and fly
or be devoured by your fiery appetite.
I was carried by an invisible force,
aboard the train of wanderlust.
No one told me to get down, to get off
because the only inhabitants of the station
were blankets of mental dust.
The train bore me far away,
to realms that were in their making.
Realms of wonder and splendour
and realms of utter confusion
that were slowly disintergrating.
It travelled along an endless track
that kept vanishing from behind.
The fear of getting lost didn’t leave me,
the shadow of loss swallowed me.
Would I ever be able to get back?
I looked out the window
and saw the worlds coalesce and separate.
Where these lands a remnant of the past,
a figment of the future or an invasion
of the present in a form I didn’t know.
If my consciousness was being sought
by anyone who wasn’t lost,
they would find it, sitting and moving,
struggling and jumping and travelling
in the train of thought.
I used to take cover under my mother’s umbrella,
when I was small and my heart was big
I used to seek solace in her natural warmth,
when nature unleashed its turbulent jig.
I used to gaze at her tiny, natural, colourful sky,
and peek seldom at the real one;
I used to let her hand caress my tousled hair
and make sure the winds actions were undone.
I used to stomp with my little feet
and watch the droplets go flying by.
I used to let the startling waves crash against me
and feel the warmth in my body die.
But then a hug from her would invigorate me
and the cold would flee into the sky...
....Suddenly I leapt into the storm,
Into the fury of the deafening rain.
Not two minutes had it been and I wanted to
be under her umbrella again.
one by one
storms come down and wash away
all my rough edges
You folded me with your beautiful hands
into a tiny little paper boat.
You watched me sail on life’s little streams
and taught me how to stay afloat.
You fixed me with a piece of tape or a blob of glue,
manufactured in the mills of your mind.
After the angry river and its harsh rapids
had made me the victim of their hardest grind.
You helped me flow into the sea of dreams,
and made sure the waves harboured me.
When night fell and my path went astray,
you were the pole star, so bright and pretty.
*. *. *
You were the ultimate lighthouse of love.
YOU were the most charming and adorable person
to grace my memory.