At Some Point

Same dreams, unconquered yet,  but have been blossoming more than ever...  Same hopes, in a new cover perhaps,  been pushing to hold for a long and a little more...  The similar rumblings inside a head The usual war between a mind and a heart Have a soul ever got a chance to calm, I wonder! The wondering is the same again, as seems everything else.  But the calendar changes again. The new dates and the deadlines, yeah, I got one more year to hold! For those dreams, and hopes and a new one, that this year will see something better.  

There… We were sitting on the steps outside Chatting about a thing and many Warming our body with a dim ray of sunlight We were in office. There… Works were yet to be done Laptops were charge-less Load shedding was ruling over We were free, literally. There… The gate was wide open right before us And nobody there to hold back We could have gone We could have left. There… We couldn’t leave and go somewhere else We couldn’t use the time as we wanted to We couldn’t decide on ourselves Or, we didn’t dare to? There… Rules were the chains And discipline, the boundary We were almost the prisoners, actually Prisoners of what? There… Of money! That we have been working so hard for Of our brain, That has been running by the norms of society There… We were prisoners of our own thoughts! We still are.

If winters are not cold, then what is? Maybe you. You used to be as cold as the winter. Last year, the winter was cold, as always. But, you were colder than that. The year before that, winter was same but the chilliness was less. So were you. This year, winter is same again but the chilliness is damn high. And I don’t even know about you. I, now, do not expect some other person to make my winter warm. I love the winter the way it is. Because it is real, it is true. There is beauty in nude reality, which is prettier than the masked truth.   I know you even though I don’t actually know you. I don’t know you even though I actually know you. This is funny shit. No worries though. Because I have got some other things to worry about. Like I don’t even want to go to bathroom in winters. I shall file a complaint to it on the behalf of my skin. Whatever. Truth is that I have grown up with the seasons ...

Come, I’ll tell you my secrets You tell me about yours Don’t you think it’s already the time? Look, The page is turning to the new beginning to the new wonders The new chapter where we share our secrets, our everything, where I see the colors of bliss and this dynamics of ours is amazing. Listen, We understand each other We’ll, at least, try to All I want at the end is ME with YOU.

It was okay, it was all good. You came. We talked We laughed We walked We shared moments. You went. Left me in the sky with the memories sometimes cheering me up sometimes haunting me inside. I'm trying to land I'm trying to fly higher in between, I'm stuck in the air among the clouds with the memories sometimes making me smile sometimes haunting me inside.

She finally decided to talk to him. They had neither met nor talked for a week already. He had called her many times for first two days but she had not received any calls. He was enjoying the company of another girl anyway and she somewhat had guessed that. She headed over to his flat, to clear all the matters and declare the official breakup. She unlocked the main door with the key, which she had taken earlier from his key ring; he hadn’t asked to return because he had his own piece of key. How thoughtful it was of him to let the door of his bedroom remain unlocked thinking nobody would come to his so-called private chamber at the noon and that main door was locked anyway. She caught him dating a different girl in his house, well, more than just a dating; their half-naked bodies were stuck together strongly as if a large amount of fevicol was used in between. Well, that surely was not any fevicol. She was only slightly shocked but much disgusted and so yelled, cursed some f-word...

Look at the fingers playing across the strings of guitar And them synchronizing with the lips over the flute And holding and juggling the bow on violin or fiddle And the fingers dancing on the keys of a piano The tunes, the melody, the music it resonates I can sense a skill, magic, art and song of its greatness. I see a diver diving into the river and floating on it Playing with the tides, flapping the hands and the feet To go with a flow and reach the other end, a skill required And in all this, there is an art and the glory of it. A potter’s hands and its movements with the smell of clay A footballer or cricketer or any player as they play An artists’ pencil or a painter’s brush Into the canvas, follows their hands’ playful way The sun and the moon, the time and the nature Their ritual of ending a night and calling upon a day Everything has a form and a structure of its own Anything golden or silver and the blues or grey Life's an art there, from a birth to ...

No, its not normal No right frame of mind, Flames of anger swallowed me alive. Roasted temper, damn hot, and heated tensions suppress my inner self, Evil in me awakens A Black Soul… gives a heart scratches Flames of anger burns me into ashes. Very true, One day, I’ll be burnt into ashes.