Thy Music...!

I'll be back...

Echoes, that pierce
And heal-
Thy Music...!

Nameless, it wades in
Like a tadpole
Shunted of its metamorphosis,
Where the purpose of its being
Is lost to droplets,
Of boiling pain
Entrapped in translucent voids.

Ageless, it blows on,
Leaving behind the leafless pine
On an Autumn dawn.
Vacuous, it bleeds
Of empty woes.
And the yellowing leaves
They frame a lonesome tale.

Aimless, it wanders on a trail of its own
In hope of discovering the you,
That lay obscured,
Caught up in a tuft of cotton
That floats.
That beacon of hope flickers,
Before dying out, like always.

Careless, I toss you away,
In a whirlpool of impotent desires.
In the wake of dawn,
I search you out,
From the hidden depths of my sleep.
And I find the forlorn heart,
That sings out to me, from the horizon-

I'll be back...

Ah! Echoes, that pierce
And heal-
Thy Music...!

Once again, its that time of the year...

Once again, its that time of the year-
Breathless, I watch you leave.
Taking with you,
More than you'd ever know-
A part of me,
The soulful essence, of love.
And I pour out the oil of faith
Into you, to light up your smile.

Once again, its that time of the year-
Your silhouette fades away
Merging with the spiraling dust
Camouflaging you from my sight,
I walk back into what remains of Us-
A frame of sturdy wood,
A dollop of sepia dreams
And an ocean full of love,
In my eyes.

Once again, its that time of the year-
The season of parting, and disguised tears,
The season of bitter sweet yearnings.
A love-
To sustain,
Effuse
And rekindle-
Us.

Once again, its that time of the year-
Where distances shrink away,
Into timeless heartbeats-
Of feeling, of knowing, of awaiting
Entwined destinies-
Ours!

Choices :)

If, and only if I had to choose-
I'd pick you, all over again.
For, choices cease to matter
And options seem non existent,
When the soul knows
Just one longing-
You!

The blue berry song

Verbose, my emotions maul
At each other. A cat fight.
A bright Summer morning
And I take a lonely stroll,
Weighing myself
In my head.
Doing and re-doing,
Spelling and erasing,
I wipe clean my mind,
Once again.

The blue berries wild, I pick
On the way back home
And I remember the baking lesson
That turned wild.
Off the sudden, I nauseate
In the memory of You, painful.
And that guilt,
Of wanting to forget,
Creeps in, once again.

I empty my basket, leaving a trail
Of berries. I implore my thoughts
To merge in with me.
Feeling the load lighten,
I tell myself I am over it;
That, I no longer carry the burden
Of those blue berries,
Or You.

Reaching home, I gulp down
A glass of water.
And I pen down a song-
The blue berry song,
Once again.
And I sign off with a note,
That I'd never go walking by those woods.
Not again.

With a faraway gaze,
I hum the song all to myself.
And I notice not,
The page had turned,
The ink had been of a different hue then,
And the scribble had your strokes of love, wet.
It has always been the blue berry song
For You, and, thus me.

But today, I sing it aloud,
An obituary note
For You, for me.
For Us.

Healing

That warm smile in your eyes
And that tender touch of yours-
They help. And they matter,
Much.

When the earth stops to spin,
And I get sucked up
Into a vortex of despair,
My hands reach out
Almost on its own-
And you never fail me.

I find the strength in you
Seeping up, into me.
Filling up the veins, it gurgles
A note of inspiration.
And, more than ever, it effuses
In me,
A love, unparalleled.

When Hope remains distant,
All I need is to gaze
Into the limpid pools
Of your eyes-
Where you cradle dreams
And burn passions
And the warmth spreads into me,
Always.

Smiling, I rest myself up
On your shoulder.
Hand in hand, we sit,
Sharing our silence
And reveling in Love.

And, I call this 'Healing.'

Sweet Laments

The withered carnations adorned my heart

With a scent of love, lost.

I cradled the dainty delight of a blush

For ages, knowing it is lost,

For once, and forever.

I wish I had stooped a li'll low

And picked those fallen petals up.

But now, all that remain

Are wishes bygone,

And regrets, that bleed fresh.

Perched on the window sill,

A li'll robin sang to me aloud.

My smile faltered as I listened ,entralled.

Mocking bird, are you? I wondered

For, you left me with a half done song.

Broken dreams,

I have come to live with.

And now, dear robin, you have offered me

The lustful longing to hear

Your song to the full, just for once.

Ah! Ironical, my wishes.

For, you are a mere addition to my collection

Of lost dreams and frostbitten joys.

Tucked away beneath the withered petals,

I find you a place in my snow-laden soul

Where you bury the symphony-

Half done.

I wonder, would you ever sing to me again?