Sun with its golden curls was peeping in
Horizon to horizon, the orange shade deepened
The red portico tiles glistened in the glow
Like polka dots on satin
Fair impressions lay scattered in the front yard
The queen of night, had shed tears of sorrow
Were they embarrassed?
The orange blush was palpable
I retrieve them
As the flower decoration progressed on the red tiles
A new identity was being evolved
The existential crisis, has been allayed
At least for this day.

LIFE

Down from the *****
I saw the steps
I thought
Were, the steps
To my calling.
All that mattered
Was, to believe.

When calendars
Churned out unending numbers.
And the process
Repeating in cycles
Of rippling rhythm,
When
The ripples flattened out,
And the rhythm turned silent,
Realization set in.
It was blind faith all along,
That belied convictions.

The first step of yore,
Had become the last one now.
And ahead once again,
The ***** reveals itself,
Winding down
I not know whither,
But I know this
That am bound thither.