Paint Me a Picture


A white canvas
a palette of colours
the brush paints
the sun, the moon
the seas, the trees
consistent constants
since the advent
of life
yes, a portrait
once attempted
but never accomplished
for with every stroke
the expressions changed
the face disconnected
with the inner soul
caught in reflections
cast by the outer world
and the one time
it was almost done
the mask came off
only to reveal
another beneath.





in every song
there is a verse
that is yours
sing it
while it is,
for often
a verse
like a leaf
changes colour
and like the tree
the song
has an autumn
and a spring,
the words
remain the same
but its shade
means one thing
in summer
and  another
in the winter.





The Tunnel


Delve in to
the tunnel dark
each step measured
by a cautious breath
no hands to hold
no whispers to share
all vision impaired
sensations limited
to the cold dampness
the insensitive walls
the endless cavity
plunged into darkness
of deceit, untruth
targeted falsehood
the world within
and that without
from atop the mountain
a vibration rumbles
ahead in the dungeon
a stone released
audibly rolls, as if to lead
the uncertain
untrodden path
the third eye opens
releasing the power
of the destroyer’s fire
and in the tunnel
flickering shadows
suddenly come to life
as the flame of light
does a tandav of sorts
dispelling the darkness
unveiling the hidden
benevolent’s might
and near the exit
an unpretentious lamp
spreads its victorious
welcome glow.


You Mean Nothing To Me !


For you mean nothing to me
the river said to the sky
I flow independent of your hues
but keep sending the dark clouds
for they are the water of my life

For you mean nothing to me
the soil said to the roots
but hold on to me tight
for whatever grows towards the light
will need us both to stay upright

For you mean nothing to me
the earth said to the sun
but keep sharing the warmth and the light
for everything I hold close to my heart
needs your magic to make it survive

For you mean nothing to me
the intellect said to the heart
nevertheless, keep singing your song
for inspite of the absence of logic in you
that inaudible drumbeat feeds me life

For you mean nothing to me
the sun, moon, seas, are plenty company
but keep turning the nothingness in still air
into that wonderful invisible breeze
for I breathe in either, but in the latter I come alive.



The Ides of March


Photo credits:

Silence is golden
the wise meaningfully
had professed
but alas my friend
you used it much
like a cowards tool,
to block the truth
and defend the lies
you gave silence
the same meaning
that once Brutus did,
the ides of march
a replay of the act
one succumbed then
resigned to his fate
the other survived
inspite of your silent
whispered blows,
let rest now, forever
what you tried once
your gains, your losses
one day your fate
in solitude will assess,
heed still, an old friend’s
parting last advice
reflect, mend, change,
lose not what is left,
fool them you can
till time chooses so
for the day that they
are given eyes
to see your footprints
leading to your ways,
your own truth
will be enough
to tear you to shreds,
blame not then
the ides of march
for those who venture
to scam their own,
often lose
the right to complain.






Fly free,
for I hold you not
any more
than I ever
did before
Some bonds
are born invisible
and invisibility
gives them
that freedom too
Fly away,
from that
what was
to a place
where your soul
reignites the heart
to sing the songs
catching dust within
Fly far,
for you have wings
distance sometimes
is an eventual cure
for the bridges
that you were
afraid to build




f l y



Strange is the way –
sometimes it seems,
reality is a secret
and the secrets,
as open as
the sky may be,
that which I hide
flies free in the sky,
that which I hold,
sometimes is invisible
to even the physical me,
its strange that I can see
music with my eyes,
and words on paper
are directed to mean
different from that,
what they sing in my mind,
sometimes when you have no words
a picture can take you on a flight,
if all the puzzles were easy,
finding answers would really
be such a waste of mind,
I tempt you to fly
not to free you out of your binds,
for even the rocks
that remain grounded know,
when anchors fail
the chains need to break
and those in this evolution
that ended growing wings
like all others in the sky
still have a purpose to their flight.