A vain pursuit, or a generous rain

Don’t pursue a vain hope
Can one ever reciprocate
All the warmth one absorbs
To sprout
To grow
To sustain the strained spirit

A tree Can merely bow down
Bare it’s bark
But can’t thank a bird enough
For all the life it brings to it
It can shelter it
Shadow it
Sustain it’s Silence
But how can it weave
A warm nest for it

It can bear with all the
Nails you dug into it
To hang your lovely whispers
But can it dig it’s own roots
Which crippled as they are
Can not deny osmosis

Pain is invain
Pursuit of A purpose
That has eluded me so long
Will I just be, a spec of dust
That settles when storms slow down
Or fill all the cracks in your
Heart so that you can breathe again

How do I return
A river for all the silt it brought to my door
A breeze that unsettled your hairs
And gave you that intriguing look
A look
I m trying to gather strength
To face,
All of it
All the time
Always
But can I

dissolve my ego

lost moments
curves of a curtain
wrinkles on the pillow
why would
they show
the whispers of the wailing willow
the meadows quiet
and the silent, sullen and slow
rain drops dont crow
about all the stains

they wash,
by dissolving my ego

the time is still

voids in the vision
spaces for vapours to fill
dont measure my tears
dont look for their marks
when they empty my heart
and may be fill yours
thats when perhaps
the time is still

lemon powder

emptying the self is my wish
who said, dried
lemon powder
would not sap the pain
its in such transmutations
we find that moment
when it does not matter
if i am called insane

sparkles in your eye

sparkles in your eye
bent neck
and a sigh
will they remain the same
even when i try
and fail to reply
all the calls
from the mountains high
just because of the broken sky
music is on
should i pawn
tell me
what should i pawn

dont tell me
why do i play
music full of tears
what do you
what one really bears

dont stay still

dont stay still
in this moist evening
nothing stays still
some vapours engulf the eyes
mask the tears
but they dont beg for mercy
nothing is forgiven here
every impulse is a blot
on a white wall of nothingness

denuded steep slope

i m a denuded steep slope
nothing stays here
stones roll down
leaves dry up and fly way
no one needs a shadow here
no one drinks a glass of wine
one just stays still
like a drop of dew embracing a glacier

walked in the rain but

walked in the rain
hoping that the stains will be washed
but they became stronger
deeper
did not know that i was bleeding from within
rain was not letting the wound dry

puncture not healed

how does one heal a puncture
when tube is torn
and the path is full
of thorn

how little i could do
with all the wisdom,
and the peace interim,
flame of helplessness
swallowed her
and i am punished to be,
to be a mute victim