And the SMS that i finally sent her

A ray of light comes from the lamp
that you forgot to extinguish
Ah! it isn't finished
forgetting is not complete!
i know everyone and each of your footsteps :-]

Your footsteps
my heartbeat
the children of my silence
who play with
soft naked feet
around the bed of my wakefulness

i know everyone & each of your footsteps

An unsent sms to "mon chere petite etoile"

I know every1 & each of ur footsteps
I need 2 see myself & remember

a door imperfectly shut on still un4gotten memories
suspended 4 eternity i dance
between heaven & earth!
a ray of light comes from a lamp
which u 4got 2 extinguish.

Ah! it isn't finished
forgetting is not complete!

i still need 2 learn 2 know myself.

If only I could

If only I could join every second together
Of my life and compose a song
How would it sound?
Would it be sweet or would it be sad?
Or would it be an infinite silence?

If only I could have held on
To her hand and promised her!
That I could forsake the world for her
And love her like the henpecked moon
Loves the ever shining sun!

If only I could understand my heart
And its rhythmic beats
Like raindrops falling off the gulmohar
And kissing the earth
I would have knelt and embraced her.

I could never grasp
The wisdom of my soul
Intoxicated was I by the fragrance of your being
Real or illusion
I wish I could!

If only I could have got my act together
My dear ones would have felt less pain
I was selfish and lacked courage
And my life’s residue?
A void.

JUST ANOTHER NIGHT

1st Nov. 2008 1.47 a m.

Just another dark night?
A night without a heart!

I wish I was someone else!
A heart without a night.

The moon is in eclipse only when one can’t grasp the truth.



I have been deceived.

The sun never set;
The sun never rose
And time stands still.

I run and run only to find myself stranded
Not having moved an inch!

What moved then?

Or so she said,,,,,

At times I feel her absence is her presence. As if she is the void that fills me up. I only feel complete when her memories are with me. And like the earth which is seventy percent water.

I am merely a “thirty percent” self.

She is the poetry of my life.She exists and yet she is invisible. Like air. Like a thought. Like the soul.

She is the poet in my soul.

I am absent in her life. In her thought. In her plans. I am not even a memory of a childhood scar. Nor am I the laughter at the end of a joke.

Her sense of humor is silent. My wounds are autistic.

Life is an ellipsis of a mirage.

And hope –the catharsis of the violent ocean.