Why is it, that only at night?
Neurons fire at the speed of light,
Is it okay to be alone with so many thoughts,
Or is it insane to be thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking about... thoughts.

Why should it rhyme, why should it make sense,
To puke out chaotic cognition, should one really need pretence?
Afar they go, shivers and shudders they bring back,
Comprehend it, recollect it, don't lose track,

And yet, for a moment here, time and space have warped,
The roles are exchanged, the laws have snapped,
When the mind has leaped whereas the heart has harped,
But the body remains, in a web of questions it’s trapped,

So, why is it, that only at night?
Neurons fire at the speed of light,

A humming is heard, an esoteric rant,
The riverine sound of verses being chanted,
It pours in like there is no end,
Capacity for infinite, but grasp is limited,

Holding on to horror and knowledge at the same time,
Pulled from both sides, it’s like being ripped apart,
Letting go is hard as weakness yields to curiosity,
To fall and rise is what’s left inside, drunken oscillations of the divine,

So, why is it, that only at night?
Neurons fire at the speed of light,

To make it stop, to once more see through the eyes,
Stop struggling, and melt all desires,
Feeling is gone; the tips of fingers are cold,
Welcome back, to the “living world”!!

And ask again, just one more time,
That, why is it, that only at night?
Neurons fire at the speed of light,

When the hours get slow, and the voices go low,
The time of the night when the humdrum tends to go;
I lie awake in bed, and thoughts begin to cloud my mind,
The future goes at a scary pace; the past gets stuck in a rewind;
It is in these times I find no one but myself to converse with,
So I ponder over a million things, and it starts to get a little turbid;
Now I find dimmed lights and the radio plays old tracks,
Looking in the corridors and staring across the room, I see lost souls and turned backs;
It is now I feel the poet in me rise and come out of its scabbard,
Or if stated more humbly I turn into a mighty poor and morose bard;
I write to express myself, justify my own actions and thoughts,
Let the drunken ghoul come out of its attic at the back of my mind, where it stinks and rots;
It is the ghoul which had been a silent spectator to all my lies and all my pains,
He knows where I faltered and where I got selfish to amplify my gains;
He laughs and curses, and realizes me where I sinned,
Burns a hole through my soul, to the bottom of my heart I am pinned;
Its voice leaks out from the crevices my mind has forever tried to mend,
The truth always oozes out through the voices of family, friends and fiends;
So I write to be free, I write to become pure,
I write till I drop or till the heart goes sour;
The mind says I am vindicated, I am selfless and one thing is for sure,
I am the victim, not the criminal, a million pains I had to endure;
I should let go of these memories and forget my ordeal,
The past is misty, the future’s foggy, and the present I must feel;
I must make amends to the corners in the past I broke,
Smoothening the edges, to this dust I must never choke;
For I better future I should work, the lessons from the past I must learn,
Never must I trip again where I have passed, never must I crash and burn;
Tread carefully all the while; never should I ever stagger,
Falling is not an option now, half my life I have traversed now, rest half is on my platter;
Lying silent, staring at ceilings, crying in vain, I should end,
Having seen the changing shadows on the wall, I now know every changing trend;
Time goes by slowly in the night; it’s like a tunnel with no water and no bends,
I have many a queries to ask, but I don’t know to whom these mysteries I should send;
The night gets mystical, the starts and the moon make a mighty blend,
Maybe that’s the why the galaxy is called the Milky Way, maybe everything is Godsend;
Hey!!! But I don’t believe in God, that’s what I’ve always said,
But that’s when I use the word God, and then I start to dread;
I must believe in him, a mighty, imaginary, divine power,
My friend tells me it is all scientific, he is the energy in every particle and in every star;
But I know God is like ghosts, a figment of imagination, a scare to the kids and hope to all,
A good guy at heart, but in a tough spot where everyone he must enthrall;
And here I find all my answers, so here is my withdrawal,
I write to satisfy my whims and fancies, so satisfied here I must stall;
I am the one who had gained knowledge from this untidy scrawl,
I declare myself the winner and end this friendly brawl;
The ink bottle I now close, and roll up the scroll,
And now I sit up in bed and ponder, a poem came out of this all;
******* it!!! I can’t believe it, a stupid poem came out of this all!!!!!!

Each day is it passes,
life becomes a little bit stranger,
little bit more discernible,
But everyday life also gets you closer to a truth,
which it may sound to be little cynical, is called death.
Again one might object to the above thought as being too negative,
and yes possibly a one off feeling,
but I think again.

Everyday I feel farther away,
from people in general;
people whom I cared about or who cared about me,
but I can genuinely feel getting closer to some one or something inexplicable.

It's almost as if each day I lose an ol' friends called life,
cause each day in getting closer and closer to my true love named death.

It is almost as if I'm having to deal with a mid life crises in my quarter life only.
I've come to question every thing I ever believed in
Causing the ones around me to possibly question my very reason of thought or the clarity of my decisions,
Some have gone ahead and even labeled me as weak and messed up.

I only feel myself to be crazy,
Crazy enough to wonder
whether all the quarrying for happiness is possibly being done in the wrong fields of sand,
that is,
happiness does not spring from your actions trying live better while you're here, but it rather is cradled by working each day towards a better end,
so to speak.

Still while this feels like it just might be right at the moment,
tomorrow might bring a stranger, or different flow of mind waves with it,
to dip my feet in its cold yet steady flow.

Sorry for feeling this today.

What is hope, but survival instinct clothed in the charade of optimism?
What is love, but fear overpowered by a communion of the afraid?

While the real 'wait' for the next sunshine to be something new, something different..
Torments only those who are helpless in the true sense,
Whom we pass by but fail to succor everyday..
While true love awaits, in the eyes of children waiting,
only to be looked at, picked up, embraced and put to sleep at night...

Truth falls short of the reverence it is held in at times,
And religion comes to a rescue of sorts,
Only prolonging what is inevitable ,
A swindling yet desperate fight,
A lie concocted to keep the mind enslaved.. Called Life!!

Don't do it they say,
Oh but they all fly,
Invoking a Deity,
As if there is one, coming in view,
In the final act of play;

Foolish sonderings they are,
Illogical yet stark,
Yet only the illuminated wonder,
If it's possible to light a match in the dark.

No place for forgiveness in a world that knows justice,
The Saints be lost in a sea of numbers,
In sands that leak from a broken hourglass.

If only,
They knew, to know the why,
Backs turned and heads bowed,
Each firefly caught,
A masked revenge,
An inward storm avowed,

Lessons in time,
Given no thought,
Moving onwards ,
A cadence fought,

The only pain remained in hurt and hunger,
Smiles be woven, wrapped in leaves,
None won the war, brothers just the same
Lost in fiction be those who lost,

To decency, pledged
When all our hearts,
Stirred a ***,
And rose a better lot,

The Saints be found, in homes abounds,
The world was fair, in a century too far,
Eons went by, for the cosmic dream to come around,

No place for forgiveness in a world that knows justice,
The Saints be lost in a sea of numbers,
Split of a second it took to spun,
Why the when? The heart wonders.
Only in leaking sands of a broken hourglass...

With closed eyes..
Breathing deeper, he said "..."
But no words were spoken,
But,
With closed eyes,
Getting closer, she heard "..."
Thoughts, hurt and broken,

The wind came,
But was seen, by him,
Face buried in his chest,
With closed eyes,

Her hair too were blown,
Over her face,
But unfettered, she kissed him,
With closed eyes,

Staring down, from the top,
With closed eyes,
He sighed,
Knowing what was to come,

She called his name once,
With closed eyes,
But never cried,
But felt him shed a tear,

Together they let go,
Cause they knew
With closed eyes,
That the world wouldn't,

And even though, miles apart,
Falling through the air,
They could see,
With closed eyes,
Each other..

Hoping,
That finally,
They would be together,
For forever,
They had closed their eyes.