Tonight is for the hopeless romantics;
Lifting souls and quivering helplessly in the arms of your dance partner.

Where the smoke of ***** Dancing cascades over your smitten presence

That dance.

Is all a romantic ever dreams of
Thrusting, holding, heavy breathing and dancing in unity.

The look that screams “My Love, you are irredeemably the most fearsome thing to behold”

That is what we deserve.

Not every lover knows that their bodies can move to a rhythm as boisterous as their heartbeat on a moonlit night in front of an audience.

True.

But when I see you,
Oh my darling
When I see you
My insides need to feel the jolt of passion - the way that dance looks.

Now that’s for the lovers;
That’s what we deserve.

Pretty dresses, shiny shoes, glittery nights and suits.
They are all in your heart.
Beautiful souls;
Being beautifully in love.

Iridescent on the inside.
One dance changes a heartbeat
And then it becomes evergreen

//find your dance partner//

We talk about being pieces. Of hims and hers. Of moments. Of pain and happiness.

To say we are made of pieces, no.
I am made up of wholes.

Hims and hers. Of moments. Of pain and happiness.

The magnitude of those entities are so much.
They are wholes. What an injustice to the accumulation of our beings to label them as merely, pieces.
We are all made up of wholes.

Hims and hers. Of moments. Of pain and happiness.

I am whole without them, but with them. I am much more.
And my life is about being more.

People
Full of past, denial, love, lust, ambition and always sailing.
Irony. They are irony. And most nights it’s never poetic.
Their placid exterior, a sort of mystery. We all want to believe that there is a deepness beneath. But with a society full of sameness how can goals not be the mediocre achievements of things?

We all learn sooner or later that only a few things are needed to be irrevocably happy.

Life is such a funny thing. Humans are even stranger. Why is it that we need to expose ourselves to absolutely all of life’s shallowness to learn that we can actually swim really well in the deep and find happiness in the pruning of our skin. Softening us, allowing us to do the very thing we were meant to do. Love.

Ugh love, that shoddy thing. That word has been so stained. No one wants to hear it anymore. Poor souls.

Let the tiresome and noisy ships sail. A sailing ship will never succumb to the still water’s depth because it is in a constant state of motion. The people on those ships will merely peer off the railings, too afraid of not the depth, but perhaps the mermaids, and maybe there is magic in the depth. But they’ll never know.

In an ever changing world
Who am I?
Am I the blue and red hues of my most favored colours,
Am I the moon I praise,
Am I the friends that nurture me,
Or the job that decorates me?

See, the question of who am I has been stuck to my forehead ever since I yelped into existence
So is it true to say that all of life's embellishments are what make me so?

They are therefore I am?

What if I was blind?
And jobless
With no friends...
Then who would I be?

We are not toasters, with a limited function. That's why who we are is so perplexing.
It is known, I am human, female, Indian, but all the technicalities in the world still do not explicitly explain what makes my soul the way it is.

Who am I?
"Brave and therefore scared"

To find the difference between what we are and who we are is a life long task
There is never a moment where you can undoubtedly say,
"This is me and this will always be me"

We are unpredictable with depths not even ourselves can comprehend until it happens

I am not so much what I do or have; but I am who I am because I do those things, because of the choices and actions behind those decisions to be and do.

I am in a constant state of
"this is me right now"

And one day sitting on a rocking chair
I will collect all the moments and say,
"so this has been me"

And that's when you know, who you are.
This is my belief.