The Bittersweet Yesterday

We would rather breathe in the present and try hard not to let the air escape until we are at a risk of bursting our lungs than let air come in and go out as if we are some hollow pipes.

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The Limits We Define Within the Limitless

Feeling strangely thoughtful in the middle of the day, I pick up my pen to give shape to the formless ideas that are slowly forming in my head. Frankly, it is more of an attempt to claim my rights over these ideas before someone else does, than anything else. There were many ideas and philosophies… Continue reading The Limits We Define Within the Limitless

A Song for the Rain,… again

As we ready ourselves to welcome the long-awaited winter, one last poem for the Rain... Harsher the spell of wait, sweeter the embrace of love. Mightier the preparations, harder the storm. Through unseeing eyes you make your presence felt, And yet, when I open my eyes you evade. With despair I note, The light you… Continue reading A Song for the Rain,… again

The Fair of Life…

The strings of heart are stricken, torn and left. The Music of agony is chorussed through many a heart. Lush green meadows parch —dusty red deserts remain. But there is Life outside the gloom, And the Fair of Life ever sings the notes of joy. Dark days, darker nights, overcast dawns, pouring dusks; Large drops… Continue reading The Fair of Life…

Moments… Breezy and Bright, in the Stride through The Stygian Tunnel…

There are moments. Which in retrospect are all kind of ethereal. Where everything is suddenly photogenic, sparkling and sunny and there is a Music about it. When everything happens all of a sudden, all in a single breath, all in a moment; when the breeze blows breezily and plays and ruffles, ever so lightly, through everyone's… Continue reading Moments… Breezy and Bright, in the Stride through The Stygian Tunnel…

Under the cloud laden sky…

Under the cloud-laden sky, dark On the bosom of verdant hills, listening Where mine shall be the sole voice, resonating Carrying all the emotions of the world, outpouring I shall sing my worn-heart out – eternally. The hills, verdant, would be sober enough, Not to return the sad notes, The clouds, roaring, yet, would be… Continue reading Under the cloud laden sky…