Today's Moon Story

No blinding lights to pain my eyes
No buzzing mosquitoes to hug my elbows
A pair of white birds doing a ballet
on a night sky flooded with mindless clouds

Appreciating the perfect-half milk-moon
I listen to a playlist that makes me sway
and throw my arms up in the air, unawares.
With a spirited feeling song after song,
I levitate and feel like I've reached the skies.

Now, my fickle mind dances to its tune.
It looks hard at the moon,
and at the impulsive heart,
concluding that the eye calls it perfect
only when it sees more.

Quickly, the mind's resident debater retorts:
No way! It's the seventh day.
It is as perfect as the slashed half of
a swiftly darting ball approaching the sword
in the grips of a doubted warrior.

By now, the moon sinks low.
It let the wicked clouds engulf it.
Perhaps, it heard my fickle-minded words?

A disheartened me looks again longingly...
Soon, the clouds shrink and become
the moon's brilliant soft halo,
and revealing a perfect half
of shimmering gold.


~ Oct 23, 2020

Artist's Hope

I write, time and again,
about the sun,
and the moon and rain
like the incessant waves
caressing the sands
of the familiar shore
I write in the hope
that I can go on

But I still hesitate
to give it all, and
to take
that leap of faith,
the artist's hope,
of making a life
by creating art.


~ Oct 23, 2020

Breakdown Moon

The last few days, I've been
at the brink
of a breakdown.

Every night, I catch just a glimpse
of you from my terrace.
I shy away from you...
you, the red moon,
you, the fury face of night earth.

You try to goad me steadfast
out of this cruel mental slumber.
I can't help ponder, why, everyday,
I evade you, like
a desire I ought to have forbade.

All I seem to wish for, is
to forget to remember.
I stay glued to my inertia,
and grow the indifference,
like it's some indulgence.

The day I forsake
and shook me awake, I come
to see you a little longer.
I search you in the clouds yonder,
to tell you that I owe it you. Alas,
your fury face is not seen.

I persist and pace the night terrace
and feel each of the thirsty red roof tile
that I drenched hours ago,
waiting to sing an ode a mile.
I wonder, about how quickly, you dilute,
from fervent red to a radiant white.

But, today, your fury face is not seen yet.
Tell me, the shining,
when will I see you again?

~ Oct 08, 2020

I Witness

Our mind is an invisible organ that accounted for the sixth sense. It functions by taking inputs from the other five visible organs, that perceive and learn the world around it. And, we are complete, learned beings, if we witness the world with these six.

And, as I recollected the words of a scholar, I saw a shadow play today.

On a blanched sheet, there were images
of the crumbled, tanned tea leaves
brewing in a hot pot, and
letting the sweet aroma out.

These churning of wild thoughts
of the belligerent protagonist,
was as distasteful
as the bratty bile in the stomach.

It instigated the cool and the calm
to turn rogue and act rude
to those resting nonchalantly.

Out of the blue, amidst the rumbling,
emerged the roars of a hundred
angered ferocious lions.

And there were merciless episodes
of flashes that won't hesitate
to leave the eyes blind.

What started in one corner, spread
like thick butter smeared on bread.
In quick succession, dread tore down
the resolve of the disciplined, and 

instigated them to turn the scene 

into a messy riot.

Well, now I see it clearly.

Pregnant clouds have sprawled all over.
And just then, it broke it's waters, and
showered us down its beautiful babies.

They were welcomed into the world,
amid all the prevailing chaos, with
such a spectacle and drum rolls.

Thanks to the thundershowers,
for such mindful revelations!


~ Jul 15, 2020

Love and Separation

Love and death are two topics that I have lived with most, more by imagining than by experiencing it. I replay or think about it either intensely or immensely. Yeah, I agree that the usual combination is birth and death. But I would prefer to couple love and death, rather than birth and death. Though birth and death are consequential, in a way, love supersedes birth. As in, the event of birth is replaced by an emotion called love; and death by separation. 

Death, as an event, wields more power than birth when you weigh the consequences. You can prepare for an event called birth, but you are never prepared enough for death. However prepared you are and wait for it to happen, it always comes as suddenly, and leaves the shock of a slap on your face.

Love lies in a metaphysical plane, and can transcend time and place. Words of love can feel as real as the feeling of touch. And so can death be. You can very much love a person separated by years and thousands of miles. 

And with death, you can very much imagine and feel death and it's consequences, right from the time when just the thought about separation is implanted or etched in your mind. I mean, someone can live with you everyday, and yet, be gone and make you unsure of their existence.

~ Jul 06, 2020