Blue

I span out right above all,

I draw the rainbow, as colorful, as tall,

I look beneath, at the vacant water, and turn it blue,

Wherever you go , I shall not leave you,

I bring down the shadow when my stars twinkle awake,

I face towards the crowning moon, when the sun shuts the drape,

I may change from orange to black,

For I am a father, to the clouds stack,


I am home for the fleeting wings,
I am the lover of the moist earth, one that clings,

I lie awake, watching all sleep,

I am the heaven, towards which the shoots grow, and the grains reap.

Pilgrim

He sits atop the baggage, snuggled within the shreaking train,

He hums his tune, with the smokey breeze and the passing crane.

He looks beyond the cracking roof, and the patches of green,

He looks beyond his struggling moods, scratching across his battered screen,

He’s crossing states, roads and signs,

He is laying off his spent off times,

He has been called for one such ride,

By his heart, ruffled apart in his tiresome stride,

He walks on the path for the quest of his soul,

He walks on the traces of the glowing flint stone,

He walks the rhythm of an unwinding scroll,

He walks with memories the wind has blown,

Like a bird looking for a twig, that shall build his nest,

Like a warrior afoot to conquer his quest,

Like a bee above the nectar’s chest,

Like a ray towards the shimmering crest,

His mind has lead him so far,

To the answers etched beneath a scar,

His soul has wandered this far,

In search of peace, locked in a sparkling jar,

Where hands cease to reach , so does the tangled heart,

He will reach his wishfull place,

That shall give him back his pace,

He shall emerge by the end of the maze,

With all the answers , twinkling in his gaze.

Travel

The idle flock of clouds unfolding softy in the breeze,

The crumbling pebbles beneath, crowding with tiny beats,

The painted, flaking colors on concrete start to cease,

As nature unveils its colorful fleets,

The more heavier mountains and rocks start passing by ,

 more wilder the landscape pecks,

The more shafts of air go running past you ,

 more burning and feisty are the sunsets,

The fewer men u meet across the roads,

The deeper the pathways begin to unfold,

The heart starts speaking louder wearing feathery coats,

The grazing mind lowers his pretence in the hearts court,

So far you travel, so far u unravel the secrets within,

As deep as you feel your presence amongst nature, it’s beauty looks more stunning.

To Mum, with Love.

You are the one who brightens all the dark damp traces,

You are the stick that burns to ashes,

Just to enlighten the tender bud of the lamp,

Leading me with a mere finger, while giving away your heart to clamp,

Every ounce of your life, you fed me for my gain,

You cradled me within, bearing me with all the pain ,

Every little cry you could hear, every single time,

My smile, my laughter, would twinkle upon you like a chime,

You let me ride the wheels on my own one day,

You let me splash my own colors, with the clouds drizzling gray,

You let me fall once, even if it broke your heart,

For my lessons, were far more dearer to you, than your own heart,

You have walked with me to where I stand today,

Across every curve of fear and dismay,

You have held me and taken away all my fears

You have sent me ahead, hiding all you tears,

They say giving birth is a miracle,

But when I look at you, I look at God’s own miracle, who brushes past every debacle.

I look at you at times when you are asleep,

And I still feel the same love, the same care, past your silence steep,

How much more, than I say, you mean to me,

How much more I could love you, I just cannot see,

So much more I love you every passing day,

So much more I could speak, but you already know it all, as it’s in your heart that I stay.

Tulip

In the prime of her life,

She lies awake all night,

With a humming bee singing her plight,

In the darkness of the distant stars,

She grants the swift mild breeze,

The scent of her beauty , just to please,

As the tides gush towards the guiding moon,

She ploughs the deep blue treasures with her tangling key,

Her roots kiss the mud, for her soul’s plea,

In the soft glow of twilight,

She blooms into grace, with her enchanted self,

Whether in a garden, or in a clay pot over the shelf,

In the life that she lives selflessly,

She grows from a bud to a flower, giving endlessly,

She dries towards death, but never weeps, although upon someone’s shrine ,

She honor’s with her presence, even while withering like a pine.

Walking the Dawn

Roamed a while amidst the lush green, rumbling trees,

I Looked across the piling heap of crushed leaves,

Strolled within the crowning bulge of the sun,

Smelled the warm scent of the baking bun,

Poured a coffee, steaming over the headlines,

Shivered  in the crisp chill ,playing around nearby pines,

Smiled at a wrinkled face, wandering aloof with his own pace,

Smiled also at a  flower, who smiled back with its fresh face,

Walking mornings, is a healthy habit I was told,

Healthier, once you fill yourself with the vibrant cold,

But then the sun finally wakes up to our side of the world,

And all of us have to unwind the blankets curled,

While you breathe into the sweat and smoke of the day,

Spill out the freshness, the smile, the breeze on those brazen figures of clay.

Paulo Coelho: My story teller

After having turned a few hundred pages, and a few thousand paragraphs of the stories by Paulo Coelho, repetitively, I found a new outlook of my own life within those stories from far off lands. A different aspect, of the whole game of thoughts that the mind wins and looses,  lies hidden amongst those words.

My aim behind reading those books, was merely to find an answer for the questions I faced, earlier, and those which still continue to borrow my sleep some nights. Having the habit of over thinking an action ten times before doing it, and later a hundred times rethinking , after actually having accomplished new levels of embarrassment and awkwardness. I turned to a few books by Paulo caulho, these were not mere lessons from the wise , spiritual sages, who speak of finding peace by trusting in one god, but not the other. These were stories, which took me with them to distances which my mind and heart had never crossed before, to such heights from where I could look upon my life, like a  lamp lit view of city from up the hill. These are lessons, given through each character, each story, every change of scene and every turn of events.

 It does not give you a mere diversification of the right and wrongs of life, to cross check against your own assumptions of deeds and sins. It rather takes you a place from where problems and their solution live back to back facing side along streets. Somehow, going through the stories again and again, a map was created within my mind, amongst all that it had contained within so far, bridging the subconscious and the conscious sides altogether. The map linked my past and present destinations in life, showed unknown alternate routes to the same destination, which I had foreseen in a rush to be the first one to reach, where no one else could.

 It showed some dead ends, which had been avoided, just because I had someone, who had already faced the peril, sitting right beside me to lead . Although all this while I never realized how important that person was, for where ever I had reached today. An entire scenario of my whole life drew itself in front of me, of what went wrong, although all the turns seemed correct.

Which stops should have been stayed longer, which routes should have been altered, which turn should have been followed a little longer, before the very next .

With every story that I read, the map kept on growing more and more intricate, and precise. Some roads which I had forgotten long back , registered back in their respectful places, some turns which had lead me into the most horrible traffic ,  stood as reminders of how what lies across the next turn should never be presumed.

The surprising thing was that, the more intricate and detailed this map got, the more complications were resolved, and the more accurate pathways could be traced.

I found a lot of answers all this while, with which I could grab my sleep back, and by the time you are reading this, maybe I was bestowed with few more. Questions and answers both. But there is one answer that we ought to remember for a life time. Sometimes, all the turns we follow are right, it’s just that the route we’re following is wrong, although it may seem right for all those passing by in a crowd. All we have to do is search the one that is right, for us.