From pitch black,
as the sky turns
blue, magenta, saffron
and millions of
shades in between
with a soothing pace
then gives way
to the Spherical Hope,

I am convinced
of everything that is,
of everything that ever will be.

Somewhere in me
there exists a being
made up of all the reasons
that insist me
to stop loving you.

At times when I ignore it
and instead look away
towards you
It stares me hard,
starts blabbering abuse
as I keep looking at you.

But at the end of the day
when I am home,
heart-broken
by your indifference,
it reaches me back
wipes my tears
and puts me to sleep
in a blanket of lessons.

That being,
made of reasons.

Time carries away
years of my life,
like wind drifts autumn leaves.

One sombre evening,
as he sat by the window
past tried to trick him
into its song of nostalgia
one he always resisted
and kept at bay.

But, for once he let it,
gnaw away his soul, and
***** the deepest of his bones.
His guards in disguise
his promises, responsibilities,
ambitions and ideals
started to sway and bow,
to the winds of guilt.

A strong deluge of emotions
started to sink him in
he too, let himself drown
and dissolve away in haze.

Next up, he found himself
atop a ship of submission,
She was already there,
smiling as she looked away.

In distance,
the golden sun of hope,
Faded away at the horizon.

I don't write anew
thoughts happen to me.
As I sit looking up,
at times I am able to tune in
to the Cosmic frequency
and they descend,
the Thoughts,
that already exist
floating in the cosmos.

perhaps,
I’d be gazing the horizon
perhaps,
You’d walk towards me
perhaps,
I’d miss a few heartbeats
perhaps,
I’d avert my eyes to catch a li’l breath
perhaps,
We’d hold hands for the first time..
perhaps,
the waves would slowly touch our feet
perhaps,
wind’d be messing up our hair
perhaps,
we’d try to take it all in
perhaps,
You’d say you went to come back
perhaps,
You’d have come back,
forever….
perhaps,
it’d seem like a happily ever-after
perhaps,
I’d be writing a poem for you
perhaps,*
after yet another pang of longing!

Life descends,
not in thunder storms
or lashing rains
of passion

but in gentle drizzle
of bliss and purity.

Wading through the fading past,
the present dawns.
Leaving the misty future,
dream of Nirvana,
when the present shall shower it
with eternal sunshine of clarity.