You wear my blemishes
you own my flourishes
you bear my pains
you clear my stains
Why do you let me reflect?

Smiling at a whim
speaking to yourself,
shining light within,
sowing happiness around.
Why do you show me what’s real?

Reflection is realization,
realization is beyond imagination,
imagination is always in the presentation, yet
being present now is the true gratification.
Why do you make me think about what’s true?

Oh, mirror - you are not only a reflection
you are a true revelation.
I want to be the person on the mirror.
So, show me how!

Canopy painted by Mother Earth,
waterfalls flowing down the Görges,
canyons wedged by a
liquid quarry,
dew dropped acres prepared for a pristine  greenery,
Is beauty really in the beholders eye?

A painting on squirrels back,
eye of the peacocks feather,
wavy contours on deers horns, and
eyelashes on a hornbill.
Is beauty really in the beholders eye?

Waves wanting to reach my sand castle,
mountains growing by the cloud cover,
rivers disturbing the rocks and yet gently touching my feet,
trails that make me feel hearty.
Is beauty really in the beholders eye?

Beauty is everywhere,
It’s absolute.
It’s constant.
It’s more than that meets the eye.

Parading a galaxy of stars,
you are the shining way to our future.
And if you were born today,
I wouldn’t be present here.

You crave a good center of attraction,
giving the mighty sun a corner of your attention.
Hazy band of light is how we see you,
even as you pack a full stream of illumination.
Will you shine a bit more on us?

Sweeping through the dark ages,
you are that marvel of creation.
Or was it design by evolution,
a masterful coincidence of mind blowing proportion.
Will you share with us?

You conceal your true strength in dark matter,
as old as universe when it was in tatters.
Maybe you have the story of the Big Bang
stored in your matter,
for it to be revealed in a beautiful glitter.

Will you reveal to us?
For Earth is where you are famous.

When I search for you,
Will I find you?
When I find you,
Will I meet you?
When I meet you,
Will I tell you?
When I tell you,
Where will you be?

I may not know the words,
but silence is all I speak through.
I may not know the plays,
but character is what”s true.
I may not know the ending,
but beginnings are about due.

I may not be the richest,
but I am richer by you.
I may not be the wisest,
but wisdom in loving you.
I may not be lovable,
but love is all I got for you.

So when I tell you,
Where will you be?

I have no costume on
I wear no mask
I see what you see
I hear what you hear

My heart is not a spider web
Nor will it catch you off guard
It ain’t a skeleton in the closet
As you can see what I see

I have no spooky ideas
I have no creepy creations
Maybe I am the abnormal
As my mask is the see through one

Life is not a costume parade
Nor it needs to be one day wonder
It becomes a miracle
When we share what we feel

Say what you feel day in and day out
Until the zombies go out
I will surely see what you see
I will hear what you hear

Among a personality contest of constant comparisons,
What is better - becoming rich or being a king?

In a relationship of frequent heart breaks,
What is better - surviving solitude or sacrificing love?

While living in a globe of constant motion,
What is better - staying still or running to nowhere?

For a word bond built on empty promises,
What is better - not making them or not keeping them?

In navigating a world of race and colors,
What is better - being different or learning to be the same?

For a mindset with no attention span,
What is better - withholding information or being forthcoming?

When adapting to local ways of global cultures,
What is better - losing your uniqueness or changing your tradition?

Alas, when the answer is not that simple,
I say - what is better - writing a poem about it or giving a speech?

On a full moon day, and
On a cold starry night, over
By a meandering river side,
when reflections are your only friend,
It wasn't the moon that was radiant,
rather it was her beautiful glowing face that was in splendor,
because all I could see was her.

Maybe there are no new places to discover,
There are no new lands to conquer,
There are no new ideas to decipher,
There are no new relations to acquire, yet
There is only one thing to admire,
Her words and her soft demeanor, and
I am her fanciful well wisher.