.

Words alone 

mean

nothing.

We  are 

the chance,

the will,

the magic.

With every breath,

we forge another eye to the chain

of hope.

Routine

Monday to Sunday,

I stare through the window,

for a view —

a glance of wholeness.

The rain writes legends on the roof

in a pitter-patter Morse code.

Dreams drag out dragons riding the

half moon in broad daylight.

Three Dimensions

‘Read some of these music magazines’,-he said with eyes that never looked straight into hers-almost as if saying to keep herself busy. Then he turned around and all she could see was his back and the blue towel wrapped around his skinny waist, heading to the bathroom. The stack of yellow-framed magazines lay next to her body on the floor.
She only looked at the cover, and left the stack unopened. She longed for his presence instead of reading about music. The feeling she fell in love with.  She wanted to be around that feeling forever- like seasons are around, changing as the hair turns grey and the eyes wrinkle.

She wasn’t ever ready to give herself fully;  she wanted to blend, rather than belong. The days went past the streets of harlequin strangers she nominated as a possibility.

***

‘Read some of these music magazines’, he said with eyes that looked straight into hers-almost as if saying that she needed to catch up with the latest news to be more interesting. Then he turned around and all she could see was his dark birthmarks and the blue towel around his waist, heading to the bathroom.

She only looked at the cover, and tossed the stack on the side. She didn’t care about the stupid magazines on the stupid floor and she felt as if all for seasons shut down and she wished the shower was just as frozen as his heart.

She was ready to give herself fully: she wanted to belong. All of a sudden she found herself longing for the days when she danced with harlequin strangers wherever she went.

***

‘Read some of these music magazines, he said with eyes almost apologetic- as if saying he’d rather stay laying next to her. Then he gently tucked her hair from one side to another, turned around and all she could see was the blue towel around his waist and his strong back heading to the bathroom.

She curiously laid her hand on the magazines and looked into the first one on the top of the stack. She felt the same way about the magazines, the movement of his shadow behind the shower-curtains, the seasons changing, every new wrinkle and every grey hair that grew along with this love.

She was herself.

Delusion

Let’s throw on another log and sit around-

I don’t want to play with fire.

Let’s throw on another log, and

wait for the summer.

Like a child,

I lay down on the porch to sleep in the sun, as if

a silent tribute to John Lennon­ 

the skies are blue

Live, as if you were to die tomorrow 

Maybe death is but a silent breath. 

Maybe some of us are already dead. 

Another year, 

lunar-lunatic times...

Our days are counted- 

organized

given a name.

We calculate 

to 

count down 

Like a child,

I lay down on the porch to sleep in the sun, as if

a silent tribute to John Lennon­ 

the skies are blue

Live, as if you were to die tomorrow 

Maybe death is but a silent breath. 

Maybe some of us are already dead. 

Another year, 

lunar-lunatic times...

Our days are counted- 

organized

given a name.

We even calculate to 

count down 

Nothing Is Taken

Nothing is taken

lightly. Nothing is taken

all seriously.

Word

the only way to reach balance is 

to weigh nothing

Let Go

I don’t know how to let go.

An ocean behind,

as far as I can see is

what lies ahead –

Stars... 

they guarantee nothing.

Not even their own light.