Through a Window

I usually see poems
Come to me through;
A window - like a signal
From fluttering leaves; asking me
To write what they want to say.

And then I sit, waiting for them
like an elder would wait for kids
to finish with their games and come back
and tell - what they felt; show
their bruises, share their smiles

The wait itself is so romantic.
Anticipating the soothing touch of wind
shall cleanse my soul; give me
A pious joy - never ending ecstasy.
That I'd preserve for eternity in ink.

But sometimes, my beloved; is angry
or annoyed with my melancholy; it comes
to me that day too, but just wears me
away. Its then looks back as it leaves
and says, 'Not Today'

poem II

A window I knew existed
Between me and what I am
A path I knew was carved
To find what I always was

Misty dreamy mornings and lazy nights
Choked on me; where I tried
To come out and
Live like I wish to

I guess it was only
But a dream; I guess I lived it
More than I should have
It scared me

If those answers I could find
I could smile; could breathe
If the world ever rested; I guess
I could move on.

poem

I wish solitude gave me
Answers to my questions
I wish my shivering fingers would
Come to peace - somehow

Curiously palpating nervous system
Sweating fingers and unrest;
In the core - the vacuum I wish
Would rain into tears

At the penultimate horizon; I always
Wish I had just crossed over
Sanctity of my fears holds true, as they
Win over me again and again

The membrane impermeable returns;
To my worst of fears; and I struggle
Scratching it out; and I struggle
To breathe it out

Dance of Randomness

I see as I lay
In my bed; light falling
Through the window
The curtain; a little drawn out.

'C' shaped dust particle
Dances in the light
Like soloist - on a task
To impress his audience

Jealous by its weightlessness
I think - what if my mind was so
What if it could dance
To the tunes of randomness

My science teacher in school
Told its called the Tyndall Effect
But to me; its just
A very beautiful, enchanting dance.

One in Many - I

Why is man so obsessed
With his individuality
When faces like his toil at
The feet of destiny; everyday?

Who decides who is the best
Who decides who grows
Who decides who is happy
Who decides our fate?

Where's that God we all believe in
Where comes all that faith from
Why do we want money
When ash is all we'll become?

Oh man oh god who art thou
Oh world oh heaven the door's where
Oh love oh hate the faces we see
Do we love or hate our own self?