Standing next to rocks we once carved
trying to remember the etched memories
of the years gone by,

when I had unison of dreams
and nightmares with you.

the wrath of time spared none,
not even the rocks , I see

but I wait
to conjure everything
from these rocks.

there is something about the air
when it is about to rain,

Did you ever feel it?

Lullaby

Sweet melody,
and the rain soaked air
lying on my mother's lap
with absolutely nothing to care

I feel ashamed of myself
and wonder as to why,
where was I even this busy?
how did I forget such a paradise?

I ask her after all this,
why does she love me still?
and she just patted my head with a smile
rest was just eternal bliss.

Like leaves on sun burnt trees
our ambitions slowly recede,
as the winds of change blow,
are you really ready to let them go?

or would you catch them
as they fall and scatter,
dead may always remain dead
but would it ever matter?

would you not wait for a whole season
for them to grow again?
or just sit infront of the idiot box
silently biting away your pain

Verses

Why go in verses
maintain a rhythm
when the words spill
all over the canvas
fighting for spaces
to conjure meanings
and sometimes feelings
before they finally cease to exist
and get trapped forever,
in pages of the books
left in the empty corners of libraries
to be read or just seen.

Why seek the rhythm
when the world outside
is full of chaos
nothing but Chaos

Three tiny tots
and a fluffy dog,
laying on the grass
looked at the clouds.

the first one said,
look an elephant,
the second one said,
look a rabbit,

the third one said
look a dinosaur dancing on the rainbow,
the others were jealous of his imagination,
he was only humble for his blindness

I see loads of people
crammed in places where one can’t breathe
full of music promised to drive away your demons
just to wash away the dirt of the week that slipped
and they eventually try
to live one night
just to survive the days coming
We are all in this whirlpool
of never ending desire
to lose ourselves
in people we don’t know
things we don’t care of
Ask me, How your nights are?
I would say restless
Why?
busy searching myself inside
and scared , if successful.

All bodies await,
the burning over pyre,
the cycle will go on,
till there is desire,

Amidst the flame and fire,
lives turn to ashes,
the material body is an illusion,
soul is freed in flashes,

The path of life,
ends here,
and new paths unravel,
it is a mystery indeed,
for which the soul travels.