Is it the story behind the 'start' and the 'stop'?
Which tries to tell us that perhaps every beginning leads to nothingness...?

Or is it a huge heap of small little secrets supplied in bits...?
Which just hints to the fact that its not the concept of 'nothingness' that counts.
Maybe its all about what happens in between...
Maybe its all about what happens in the PATH...

A piece of you
Reflecting back
The bitter words in your mouth
Too raw to speak
A poet is
Someone in pain
And someone in love
Someone who looks at the world
Through a kaleidoscope
Who takes a magnifying glass to each
And every
Word you say
And lets them imprint on their heart
A poet is
A star gazer
A dreamer
A chaser of
The improbable
But hopes anyway
A poet is
Tissue paper skin
A heart of glass
And a soul of titanium

A poet is
A sharp tongue
And a gentle kiss
She is a sob
He is a sigh
A poet is
The sun at midnight
Bright and
Burning
Hot
Alive
But cloaked in a darkness
They cannot shake
The brightest day
And the darkest night
A poet is
The human experience
A paradox
An oxymoron
So complicatedly
Simple

A poet is
A lover
Who refuses
To stop wearing their heart on their sleeve
No matter how much it bleeds
But rolls them up
So you can’t see
The blood stains


A poet
Is Poetry

A beautiful mind is what makes a beautiful heart...

Maybe we grow up when we realise
Beauty is not in the shimmering of lips or in the curve of the hips.

Maybe its when we realise
Beauty is a term used by the souls and the souls alone.

Its a term which transcends all our imaginations and yet, is so much in sync with it.

Maybe its when we realise
There's a lot more to Love than just
'loving'.
There's a lot more to give than just
'giving'.
There's a lot more to hope than just
'hoping'.
And this 'lot more' is called
'believing'.
Believing in a life,
Which is so much more larger than just 'another life'.

Maybe there resides a phoenix in you...
Yes YOU,
You, who tried to cut the veins and paint your hands red,
You, who finally decided to just give up on your life.
Maybe inside you there rested a piece of hope,
A hope that tells that Death brings peace,
And giving up, solves all your humane problems....
Is it because of this hope or this phoenix,
That we ordinary humans often end up destroying ourselves...
Sometimes unknowingly,
And sometimes knowingly...like you did.

The truth has always been
From destruction comes life...
But you were never the phoenix you so much longed to be...
You were in fact, just another container for petting it's soul.
From your destruction, there'll never be a new life....
You've just ended up in planting the phoenix in our souls.