------------------------------
            

The truth is


We are the same soul


Split and now pickled in separate jars


We keep crashing in what we call passion


It is actually an effort to break the glass


So we can be one again

Standing on our rain swing
Face to face
Pushing slowly in moistened rhythms
Higher and higher
Through the misty droplets
Wet eyelashes
Slippery smiles
Higher and higher
Into the grey skies
clouds laughed,
The rain pierced
Thunder growled
Higher and higher
Through sheets of rain
Tearing curtains of pain
Laughter galore
Washed ashore
Higher and higher
Laughing eyes
Fingers clutching
Lips brushing
Higher and higher
A lightning sparked
Tore sky and earth
We disappeared,
Together
Higher

-----------------------------------------------------------

Fou­nd it in the old iron trunk

Beneath mouldy  coats and heavy futility

Squashed, wrinkled

Ostracized with hearing aid and papery bones

Limbs sticking together

Aching to unfold

I picked it up

It smiled with toothless eyes

Trembling gratitude clasped my hands

All it wanted was to talk to me

A grant of thirty minutes of my selfish life

It only wanted

to tell me

A Story

Make time for them, show that you care. They just need to talk to you sometimes.

-----------------------------------------------------------


Sti­tch me with your pain


Leave me suspended


Undiagnosed


A hopeful placebo


To all that you suffer

Does it really matter

  I yearn you far

or hold you near

There's no real dreamworld

And no hell to fear

Everything that we are

Is in you and me

Everything we can be

Is right here

--------------------------------------------

Isn’t it really  something

that in this mayhem of failing chances

of a zillion comings and goings

within an infinite logarithm of atomic dances

amidst every strong probability

scaling the strongest prospect

of passing the other by

without even a nod, thought or recognition.....

In spite of these limitless

permutations of impossibilities and negations

That we even met.

I’m learning to be thankful

For just that.

A take on the Theory of (Im)Probability

---------------------------------------------------------

It's a pedestrian on lacquered streets

Ends up holding your hand

Hops into the coffee house round the corner

with a glorious morning conversation.

An asphalt highway , licking its own journey

Glows and wanes in delicious unpredictability

It's an infectious happiness

Catch its fever.

And when he clasps your palm

refrain from using a handwash

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