Hopping into a jump
From the nest towards home
Jumping falling falling…
Rushing downward at the speed of life
Wind pushing eyes shut
When life should have flashed instead.
Like a parting gift from a party
With warmhearted hosts
Who make you forget
That you came uninvited.
Falling falling flying…
The absolute joy of
A dream turning to experience.
Proving yet again
That doing always beats thinking.
Flying flying and more flying…
With winds breaking in the wings
Fluttering with delight
While smelling the clouds
And hear the snoring thunder
Sailing to a home
And pointing to the tiny house
As seen from above.
Loneliness reaches its peak once you realise
you’ve got so much of love,
but no one to share it with.
Usually it gives way to loveliness
an epiphany that you’ve got so much of love
and the whole world to share it with.
No more analysing
whether I am worthy of being loved back
How can I do it truthfully though,
when the I and I’s assumptions constantly evolve.
Are you so different than me though
Don’t you also oscillate between this constant
‘I am so lovable, fuck their bad taste’
And ‘Why the fuck do they even love me?’
Right now this is all I am sure of
This warm glow in my chest
This joy and my lightheadedness
the jump in my steps
And this smile on my lips.
I forgot how to frown
After tasting your smiles
Started humming old songs
Since you sighed in my ears
I understood art only when
Sunlight drew on your skin’s canvas
Celebrated every breath
As took my last in your arms.
Of snail placed days
Where every ray
Falls with joy.
These leaves ignite
A lazy breeze
Gently it pulls
And up I fly.
On a branch up high
Of unspoken thoughts
A forgotten flower
Breathes it’s old sigh.
Tasting the first sunshine
Nibbles turn to bites
As the heat rises
Every petal smiles.
Maybe paper exists only for the pen,
Yearning to be marked by it
Drenched in its ink within a few moments
Forever carrying its scratches & scribbles.
All it takes is a mini-catharsis though
A shot of new-age individualism maybe;
Stories don’t always come from outside & beyond
The best ones are often found within.
A fold here & tuck there
Shifting forms yet still the same
Choosing from being the medium or the story
The choice is always your own.
I used to love getting high,
Thought I could leap out & fly,
Never do I once recall worrying
What if flying would turn into falling.
What was once laughed off as fear,
Is now a way of life & called caution.
Looking up, dreaming & taking leaps,
Has given way to looking down, calculations & breathing deep.
Do you remember when we used to lie in the grass?
When we used to stare at the clouds,
And tried to read stories in the sky,
Now you’re in your air-conditioned cubicle;
And these clouds have dispersed
But I am still on the grass.
Sometimes I wonder
which one of us is more stuck
But luckily these
half-shaped clouds always distrac