In the whirlwind of thoughts I sway
Relenting to the endless swooshes
as it blows all hopes further away
Like a willow tree, I fade

In the ink, it finds semblance,
in roughness of the paper, love.
And so, the dirge becomes my song.
And dreams, its manifest.  

In the tossing and turning,
and in the continuous ticking
Days find colour,
and dreams, its voice.

In so much storm
everything is lighter than air.
And, the walls fade away,
Into the whirlwind, I sway.