Behind your time
assassin walks
I will sit in a wake.

You had many
faces. The slave value
was increasing.

The impact craters
were coming up in dark
morning of realization.

Harmony suffers.
Explosions come from sky, as
if two stars have collided.

The frail peace
always grieves at the end
of the embraces.

Not reached anywhere.
In finding the meaning of life
a shadow falls in mirror.

Wanted to pick
your mind. Quantum leaps
in blood-stained feet.

Walking under foliage,
I don't understand why you
wouldn't taste the fruit.

What was the
brilliant thought to solve the
daily tragedy of life?

You want to become
forgetful in the crowd littered
with golden swords.

How will you call
me, when I was invisible?

The whole thing
of burning ghat turns
into ash, from which
the Phoenix will rise.

Who was this
diva standing on my path?

Sun, time and
flames ripen the smile.
The sentence was heavy
to prove the fidelity.

This story is different
from the myth of Sisyphus.

The bird was flying
towards the sun. Moon
weeps to open the secret
of embracing a yajna.

Moon strips in
grey hours, to transcend
the scream of ****** pain.

Too proud to
knock the door of locked
colossus of retreat.

The anniversary
has the solemn occasion
to pay homage to flint.

First poem was
written for unborn you
in my turbulent life.

The stranger now
walks alone in wilderness
to find you.

Lynching
by majoritarian
the hiss from a full belly.

Of human behavior,
wanting to bring drastic
change in space & time.

You were punishing
yourself. Would not align
the ends. The vision fails.

Hard days.
Vagabonds don't beat
the brows for moon.

The emptiness
prevails. Dreams are made of
flesh and bones, but don't walk.

Not a doomsday
O hardened life, I cannot
read you like a Rosetta stone.

You walk under
Jacarandas to become purplish
blue without moony touch.

The scented air
brings meltdown, I rise
the candle to count the tears.

A trembling prayer
dries on your lips. A university
of love burns in eyes.

An orange color
abducts the clouds for a forced
marriage with sun.

I have come back
to myself, after
immeasurable loss.

I will give a call
to my alpha mate in sky,
to ameliorate my sin.

You had given me
pain. The difference between
pen and paper was the ink.

Not maleficent, we
were returning to war
in trenches.

This life had been
too much. Not more than
an honest penance.