Its the peace in you I find beautiful
A lonely soul blessed on a journey
Keep walking your path to exile
We ought to find one another eventually
Thoughts never stop to pour out
Not even drips because its a broken water main leaking back in to an ocean of countless careless things
Contamination never seemed to pass through your filters
As pure as the warmth coming from your fingers
Don't turn back or look the other way
To all the problems you should've avoided
Whats here is yours to claim
Everything you've done has summed up the value of the name you hold
If thats really your name
Who are you really and whats the act you're playing
Own up to your name to feel whole again
Let go, to regain new strength to combat the evils on your crooked path
Its all on one line that never ends
You may seem to be on a loop
Its all inside of you, the things that intoxicate you
Everything remains continuous

1
*He packed his bags to leave the town, along with his love,
but not all that soon as they had promises to keep
but when she said in hushed whisper,
being a bird of passage, she would leave soon,
he didn't in his wildest dreams thought,
she would leave him behind.
2
He can't do without her a minute,
she too would feel the same, he had no doubt,
she heard what he said and enchantingly smiled,
she didn't say yes or no, he was bit puzzled
pale she was, like a withering flower, for that, he loved her more
she looked so vulnerable, he wanted to protect her for ever.
3
This inn does't belong to them, they are helpless,
have to concede to the laws, imposed on them
finding true love is like winning a game of dice
there isn't any rule to make sure one will win, so he makes sure
to follow the itinerant maiden, wherever she desires to settle.
She took leave of everyone near and dear; a ritual heart breaking
how lucky he was , the only one to be with her, every single time
she controlled herself , a brave heart she is,
none, even her kin offered to go with her except him
she didn't have any baggage, he took many with him,
she just smiled and gently reminded him, this:
"Travel light always, you wouldn't have to jettison anything"
He saw a cryptic smile play on her lips again.
4
"Look! how simple my love is" he beamed within him
they were at the ferry, he didn't see any one there other than them,
he , his love and her dog; then ferry boat came
"Space only for you and your dog" a voice without a face said
They got in, the dog first, she pretended she didn't see him there.
in that moment he knew where he stood in this deal;
this world is an illusion where love makes us all fools
5
Each one has to stand alone, watching  the karma wheel's turn
no one is shade for the other, karma decides
she was another, though they were one,
what an illusion this is, if caught in its web, it slowly kills
Did she mumble something, before the boat chugged off?
"We'll meet there, where time and space is a myth"

With a start he wakes up, hearing muffled cries from around.

sometimes
i read my own writing
and wonder what it's like to know me

hoping the words will open a window
let the clean air in
so i can climb through the frame
inspect the damage, avoid
the broken glass
turn on the lights

wishing the words would be more straightforward
yes and no
black and white
this is how you feel
deal with it

well, i feel done with dealing with it
in monochrome, shades of grey
stealing away the colours
of a cartoon landscape
i think that this would be easier dealt with
if i could see it all through stained glass
diamond-shaped panes
breaking up the scene, shattering
the illusions unseen
and through rose-coloured glasses
black and white become so much more obvious
to my strained, searching eyes

sometimes
i read my own simple, twisted writing
and i wonder what it's like to know me
not the words, not the straight lines
that curve around my soul
but the soft ones
that make up my body, that protect
my smile and my eyes
and the ones that lead gently down to my hands
twisting around each other
in some dance
that attempts to hide the constant urge
to write out my disbelief in the existence
of myself

yes and no
still escape me
but i keep finding shards of stained glass
like a treasure hunt, like some accidental quest
picking them up from the damp sidewalk
discovering them cutting into an open palm
and i take them, then accept the offered hand
looking off into the sunset
through the bright blue and blood-red
of sharp reality

sometimes
i find the words
before they find me