I like the dry leaves

I like the ruggedness they develop over time

I like the moisture ridden texture

I like their state

Which would never change!

I like the fact

That they look strong

And yet weekly how they fall for the direction of the breeze.

I like the dry leaves

And their unheard symphony!

Take me to the carousels

And let me live my childhood once again

Let me spin around the joy

Let me laugh over it's bumps

Let me be happy once again

It's dark; in the middle of the night;

And I feel the silence teaching me lessons;

Reminding me of who i was and what I am;

And how with every passing dusk a part of me changed;

Of the things left and the people gone;

And some beautiful days playing in my head like a happy song;

Of how when I thought I couldn't survive but I did;

All the times I thought I was weak;

But here I am today; stronger and better;

Yet so much to learn;

I let the calm heal my broken heart;

Let the sorrow sink in the darkness;

Find myself in the middle of nothing; my eyes dry; I wonder why?

Tears betray but the breath turns heavy;

And I realize; I am growing.

So I pat myself; after this tiny accomplishment; if that's what they call it;

Ready to loose my present self to the past;

So patiently now; I lay my back straight over my messy cot;

And wait for the Rays; wait for the dawn.

And! His gaps could be filled only by the emptiness which belonged to the coldest night,

The merciless night! Which healed his not so prominent scars;

The scars! That painted an ambiguous riddle on his soul,

The soul! A traveler a descendent from the dark

I asked him,
“So what is that you do?”
He took a deep breath and then smiled,
His lashes down, he whispered
“I listen to the music of the bushes
You see the mountains there?
I witness its conversation with the raging breeze,
I jot the rant of the restless sea,
I compose the rhythm rejoicing the love of the birds,
I script verses appreciating the tendrils’ curls,
I sing songs of empathy to the lonely castles,
I overhear the gossips of the old chapels.
I live beneath the night with my blanket being my solitude,
Waiting for the dawn eagerly to explore new latitudes”
He smirked and then continued, “It’s the memories that paint the dates on my calendar,
I am a lost wanderer a curious traveler”

I have curbed your ambitions with the
Images of mistakes
But I have also motivated you
By playing the happy tunes I could remember
Post your victory;
You have sometimes wanted to erase me
With your up comings
And sometimes you have pretended to do so
By burying me in your routine
But today; let me confess
That I am nothing but a slave!
A slave to your thoughts;
You have mistaken
For it’s not me influencing anything
But only the positivity and negativity within you
Forcing me to act

Words smiled admiring the soothing verse,
Rhythm grinned adoring the perfect notes,
The song smirked over their stupidity.