Was it just a gulmohar tree?
or did it mean more?
will it be remembered for its shade,
or for the beautiful flowers it bore?
will it stand just as a memory,
hidden in some remote corner of the mind?
or will it remain alive forever
like a couplet
against the blows of time.
-Rakshinda

Cold...cold...so cold
Can someone feel so cold?
Through the intertwining folds..
Of dreams so old.
The blazing sun
The scorching heat..
Yet so cold.
Heart beats .
Smiles within...sadly..
A spirit so old.
Is there no end ?
No respite
From this nerve biting cold.
-Rakshinda

From the bleak darkness it emerged,
triumphant and domineering.
Looming over the dreams
its strength,overpowering.

No denials this time
for there can be none.
like a flame it burns
like a spear,it hurts.

It illumines the mind
though the heart splits.
The dreamer dies
the realist lives.

It holds thee in its
strong embrace.
All fade,
only it ...forever remains.

It drips down from her eyes
Dampening her heart
Slowly and steadily
Baffling her more and more

What caused it?
She does  not know
Yet its presence
she can no longer ignore.

It's there.
Only this much she knows.
A searing pain that pierces
her soul.....till its very core.

.
A moment astray...

Like the bite off the fruit
you weren’t suppose to take.
But tasted so good.

A moment of folly...

One that you’re disgusted with,
yet so proud you took that step
out of the circle.

A moment of recklessness...

That took you on a trip so stellar
that it seemed to last an eternity.
You make the mistake of blinking...
then all is lost.

A moment of reflection...

A string that threads through all
those moments...
And bound unto you.
Keeping you from falling apart.
Keeping you together and whole,
so that more moments

could be made.

.

When a tweet, no longer comes from a bird.
A message, no longer written in words.
A picture, determines your current worth.
A swipe, is not for payments against earns.

Your world, no longer restricted to earth.
Your voice, can control your universe.
Games, without company, a box.
Books, used to be written, forgot.

Love was in letters, not characters.
Eyes looked straight, not down.
Communication, in touch were sound.
Reactions, were not button frowns.

Food shared, not delivered.
Noise surrounded, not muted.
Hands shaken, not email awaken.
The world was claimed, but not hidden.

An automated world,
not an automated me.