Creek turning into a mighty waterfall,
pebbles taking on rocks in a brawl,
shaping up into a story,
of the mighty underdog.

I had a dialogue with myself,
waiting for my alter ego to find thyself,
no words were said or heard,
search was never-ending and blurred.

Just then it occurred to me,
do words drown out our thoughts,
do thoughts drown out our vision,
does vision gets blurred in the sound?

Be as the pebble,
flow out of the rubble,
make peace with stillness,
for in silence we learn to be one with our own greatness.

I gave a speech.
to thousands and more,
on a topic that was never mentioned before,
cause I hadn’t spoken my mind like this on any score.

I sang a song,
to one and all,
on a minor scale was never recorded before,
cause I hadn’t mustered courage to sing my own tune.

I wrote a poem,
for myself,
on a free verse that was not written till now,
cause I hadn’t opened up this way until today.

She was from the skies,
naturally beautiful and wise,
knowing her would be an everlasting prize,
of the kind that you don’t need to think twice.

She worked many a long hour,
I watered her emotions like a flower,
her light blue eyes had that power,
showering me with a new high like I was in some ivory tower.

Few months went by,
I got to meet her up on the sky,
she had found her old love,
I had met my peaceful lady dove.

Go, fly high!

Driving through a lake of frozen tears,
hardened and numb to anymore fears,
when you are out in the wilderness,
your mind can only stare at blankness.

Fighting through a winding river of crystals,
walking and wading just as we are mere mortals,
hunkering down to reach faraway bank of promising petals,
holding onto dipping heart rate wishing it was made of metals.

Just then shining crystals pointed to the sky,
ray of yellow brightened and brought a new high,
I got ready to pitch my tent in that cold like it was dry,
for I was ready to face my own fears and give it a goodbye.

Reading some of my poetry, she said,
“Are you barking up the wrong tree?”
I knew what she meant,
for this art is not something I had learnt.

Tearing up a bark is easy,
matching words made me queasy.
I knew what she meant,
yet I was not ready to vent.

Dreaming is a daily ritual,
writing needs to flow as natural,
I knew what she meant,
yet I had a thoughtful bent.

I started to read more,
bark became paper to teach me some more,
I knew what she meant,
yes, a slight nudge from her has been god sent.

Walking slowly on what feels like quick sand,
cherry blossoms of a calming flair,
scented pollen rushing through the air,
yacht of memories over the horizon,
rock ‘n’ roll tides rushing without compromisin’.
I wait for the yacht to return.

Waiting on a slippery rock,
my own waiting game as my only elixir,
knew he would bring the yacht to the dock,
can’t wait to tell him enough of your trick, sir.

I weathered many a storm,
he took what blossomed as granted,
no longer do I need to be that warm,
ready to bid adieu and give him his farewell that he so wanted.

She knew the world,
He knew the words,
She shaped the blue skies,
He played with the meter in fives.

She brought in the aura,
He pictured in the flora,
She glittered in the halo,
He wandered in an abyss so low.

She was well versed in art,
He talked in silence with himself in part,
She was ready to know him and walk with him toe to toe,
Walking all alone all along, he was ready to find himself too.