to the moon and beyond

A breezy night,
a silent corner.
i'm the man
and i'm his lover

defininition of good morning

i manage to grasp the first swirl of leaves, a subject of great pride and greater joy, perhaps equivalent to the receipt of first birthday present and first salary for its nature of compulsive exclusivity.

Annihilating the dictates of sleep, i feel mighty in my otherwise aching body.This morning effortlessly paints a gorgeous dream that i was longing for all these days in my minuscule hours of presumptuous rest, dismissing the need and necessity of dreams altogether.

The sky rattles,
the serendipity of sky,
like a sleeping beauty
felt in her lover's touch.

The previous hours were whiled away in the multiple concoctions of existence and similar mind-wrenching thoughts, while the morning waned almost all of them in the stroke of purple dawn. Leaving me and fellow cicadas in equal proportions of awe.

It seems sunshine is born to unravel mysteries of all times, in the flicker of a discovery, like a traveler finding his shell, walking astray on an unsolicited beach in the fathom of mere incidence.

like the prevalence of my monochromatic thoughts as a matter of daily ritual, the clouds today are no different in their cryptic design except they happen to be my muse today.

the jaded eyelids, talk to the sky
through the clamor of bird twitter
while it smiles at my audacity
in a jingle of breezy wisper

i also happen to like this morning for thinning the profound diversity of this place. blurring the much debated political, and socially irreverent key issues, for intellectuals are fast asleep. The kinds who're perpetually stocked with war journals in their pockets, falter to witness peace at this hour of the day.

oh how i forget they're busy dreaming about a lucrative job in the expansive arena of conflict journalism promising the prospects of a good morning to one and all.

There is a fierce battle drawn between i and them, putting my understanding of 'i' to an eventful test of perseverance. In the rage to preserve it, i will either slay my wits to the pack of wolves or conquer the greatest genesis of human critique.

i do

like a lichen grows
on alabaster's skin
growing, decaying,
alternatively

i thrive on moments,
these days
loving, hating,
most dispassionately

deeparture part 2

The voice of my heart reverberates through the four walls of my mind. sensations amass an enormous chunk of control and equilibrium. clocks are held are as objects of importance while days are being stalked like never before.

'belongings', 'attachments', 'longing' give way to 'anticipation', 'wait'and 'future', looking handsome in their new attire. It's quite a thing to see the whole present-future transition with eyes wide open while all you do is stand in quiet contemplation

deeparture part1

a melange of thoughts race against each other to approach to the finishing line, which apparently happens to be the 'start'. The arousal of first emotional potpourri was welcomed like the first rain. Thus making it an eventful night. It's fascinating to see cold-hearted shedding their skin instantaneously in the touch of a tear.It induces a wicked smile to my demonic demeanor, capitalising on my pride.

22 kg's in a tan-brown trolly bag.

i begin to collect my belongings excluding time ofcourse.

what is the colour of your mind?

yellow,

a pale, faded one.
The one that usually blinds your eye, in it's customary radiance. celebrating despair in a bright lit room. Today i see dollops of yellow in my well-bred grey universe.
An expression of nothingness, yellow stands for a mellowed invoice of the non-conformist.

you got me
but you found me not

you love me
but you know me not

a succumbing

i thought i could live
in the illusion forever
where peace of mind
was awarded a middle finger

in a blindfolded journey
i diverged my train of thought
only to cram into wires
which can never be sought

i 'felt' an uneasiness
and that's when the trouble began
in a detached sense of consciousness
how can i ever understand the man

oh, i forgot
i am practical and non-demanding
depriving me of my response
to anything alarming

so i bear this too
on the road to perdition
giving in to their desires
in the acquired state of salvation