A blank diary lies on the desk.
hiding the purpose on its pages.
It is willing to absorb
the unkempt emotions as ink.
Moisture of ink is ready to get dry
as scribbles of an untold tale.
It may reveal its destiny as testimony
through mysterious mist as saga.

The papers are fragile so as fingers.
Thin texture may not bear the accumulated weight
of emotions the heart carry with much ease.
As all emotions are frost in compressed past.

The chamber is sealed by the present
and key is lost in the depth of future.
But the heat of burning memories
melts the chamber creating flash flood
and gush from the heart as tears.
It reflects on cheeks as rainbow hues
masking the melancholy in its splendour.

The destiny of diary remains blank
as it never got wet by ink or contrive the tale.
Heavy emotional down pour rewrites
the destiny of  an unwritten tale.

Diary got into the shelf as a mundane routine.
While disclosing a truth of life for us.
‘Some tales are better left unsaid’……

Shadows of agonies
blunt and frozen
in icy-memories
Espousal’s the dusk
not to bewail of sunflowers falling
rather a celebration of blooming of water lilies
upon the dawn of moon
to kiss infinite stars on the sky.

You may write it down in the history
as some bohemian’s rhapsody.
Oh oh! Thy fellow being
It’s not just, just prosody
It’s the Buddha Poornima
Day of emancipation from all illusions
Beacon of enlightenment
Under the Bodhi tree
When the young Siddhartha
Was deeply moved
After seeing the four passing sights
It’s the concept of acquiescence
to unfold the truth, to unwrap life
of living a moment fully.

Letting go is the divine flow
Of the rivulet called life
For go ego, jealousy, hatred and all sufferings
Nurture and nourish the saplings and seeds
Of love, peace and joy.
Letting go means to be chivalry
With time, nature and with all beings
to flow with the flow simply
like a serene brook in its own rhythm.