Everyone reacts to whatever they get, Unsolicited.

You need to be calm.

Wisdom doesn't sparkle
It flows and creeps into veins

Difficult times
Might pin your face,
Scratch your skins
Hinder the way of your dreams

Remember,
They don't know
Where your hope live
And patience sits

If they know
Remember
Both are locked in
And the key is in your hand

Sounds are unbidden guests,
Some have invitations

I Keep or don't keep ears doors open
They enter themselves

If I offer them any seats to linger,
It's my choice

But I want my ears to be honest

The child
Is a typewriter
Whatever we speak
It types for itself to follow

Whenever you begin

                     It's the best time

Achievement isn't time bound

You believe in the belief of your walking

Walking is the rising sun
You are the burning sun

A poem doesn't bloom
only in the woods,
At the fire,
In her memory.

It does in meeting with a teacher too.

That blew in the garden of Bijnor.

Two shoulders, then yoke.
Two shoulders, now ropes.

Four shoulders, then yokes.
Four shoulders, now yokes.