Searching

... For a new song
an old friend
a touch
photographs
a fire
the cold breeze
some sleep
a sunset
a familiar sound
some past memories
and new thrills
a whiff of warmth
and smell of the new

a song..






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Of walking away

Refrains of an old long forgotten song play in the background, in a rare moment of standstill amidst the zillions of those that just whiz past leaving her breathless.

And while she can place the song and what it meant to her long back, its not the same. Its all so clear,memories of the words , the tune and the surge of intense emotions. She hasn't forgotten anything. But this time she's not a part of it. As if looking at the scene standing outside a window.

You can't walk back to what you've walked away from and expect nothing to change.




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Of colours, sanctity and poetry

Once upon a time there were just 2 ways to be - the right way and the way that wouldn't be. Those days all was black and white or maybe even grey , all shades. Nature smiled down and agreed with the human whims and fancies.Humans, after all.

And then one night it rained, washing off the blacks and whites and grey, and faint streaks of colors unheard of before peeped out from underneath. Struggling to be touched and felt. But they were the forbidden colors of their kingdom, hidden by design. As tempting as sin.

Hell did not break lose. Neither did the heavens cry. Nature was the same. Smiling down at human foibles.
Because the colors would fade away, like pain, beautiful things always do. Only a void to be left behind.
And the world would be black , white and grey again.







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Precipice

High up ,standing on the edge
Looking down ..
on the world, on oneself

Contemplate just one step more
To shatter an illusion , a reality
Stopped by the sound of wind
Surreal and eerie, but strangely earthly

Just one step more and
will never pick up the pieces...




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Ruins

A rolling plain, a forgotten place and ruins as far as her eye could see. The seeds of civilization were rising again among them , maybe as primitive , with struggles no less than those eons ago.
She could hear echoes of those struggles if she just heard carefully, almost lost in the sound of the wind .

Sitting at the edge of the precipice, almost wished the ruins could be built again and then it just struck as unreal, almost un-sacrosanct.

When something beautiful falls to pieces, the crumbling remnants take a life of their own . Enchanting, painful and heartbreaking, like a scrapbook of memories.

Beautiful. Ephemeral.






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Moon

The moon broke last night again..
Shards of pain falling all over me..
Picked them up
Held them..
And rocked them gently to sleep...




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Strange but True

Nothing ever is as it seems, even when everything is so clear . There is no haze or mist or even a shard of smoke, yet it is impossible to see or even look at, at times.
In fact,sometimes it is so murky that she can't find her way out. She had looked around, taken deep breaths, weighed her options before putting a foot forward, but before she knew it the world had shuffled and she was still where it started.

Countless "tries", threats, cajoling , and she hasn't been able to break the pattern.

You could say she hasn't put in her heart in it yet, that she hasn't tried hard enough. But then it 'd be too subjective a debate cos no one else sees that haze.
No one side could win that one.

She'd just has to stay rooted where she is. For now.





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" If the sun sets you free...

The cover ups that float in her head when she puts those long waited conversations and confrontations on hold would put any liar to shame. She can't get herself to get up , go out and take that call. She's not humoring anyone. Nor is it her largess.And no she is not taking any pity on herself.
Its not like she doesn't know the power games one plays , with others and oneself.Or the ones played on her.

But wish all she wants ,scheme all she can, she'll never be.







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The 2 sides of pretense

Pretense is a beautiful thing. Sometimes so engrossed is one in their own little world of fake normality, that soon the boundary between the real and un' stops existing.
It could be a raging storm outside, but in this pretty sheltered world of pretense, its clear blue skies with just the right amount of breeze.

One just becomes a function of what one wants to feel like.

Of course its a different matter than when this deluge of rain beats and breaks down the walls of the pretended reality, the mucky slush appears but there never really is a rainbow.

Try looking all you can...beautiful pretended reality is only just that.





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Losing Innocence

Sometimes the walls close in so fast, she doesn't feel like she can breathe a lot and the only way out is to break through them and run away. So fast and so far away that all that is left behind is a haze of dust that refuses to settle down.
But as she stops and looks around she realizes, she was the one who was always there and the world had broken into her walls.

And that's when its all crystal clear,that its this she has to really run away from - her innocence, guilelessness . Her vicious naivety.

The struggle is on to find a way to define it, find it, ensure its alright and safe and then try and lose it.
For better or worse. For her.





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