Our Script, and Me

They say
you get to choose,
who you meet in life,

it’s a choice you make
long before,
you even open your eyes,

so if that be so,
then i have no
reason to complain,

for our meetings and partings,
are apparently
all self ordained,

The joys and the pains,
are all purely
self inflicted tests,

and that
empty feeling
of your absence,

after knowing the joy
of your
soulful presence,

is simply a pre-planned,
consciously scripted
comedy of errors,

where missing you
by right,
is not in my mouth to say,

for even if i do,
as i often do
in this seeming permanance,

this stage
we set for ourselves,
before our story began,

is at best ruled
by a time bound existence
of a proven temporariness.

© vidursahdev 2019


Till the heart beats

they sift my heart
to remove
the residing emotions,

for their games
only need
dry logical calculations,

and it tickles me no end
to see their frustrations
fruit and vent,

when every sieve
they so meticulously
try and use,

happily melts along
with all that
which passes through.

© vidursahdev 2019

Then and Now

we used to fly
paper planes
of dreams,
in a world
that was
ours to own,
and so very
fancy free,

we used to
set afloat
paper boats,
in streams
and puddles
of collected
muddied rain,
all hands
on deck
pushing water,
to maximise
the perishable
journey ahead,

we used to
aim at fruits
on trees,
chucking stones
to break
the ripe ones free,
sometimes owned
sometimes stolen
it wasn’t
such a crime
when all
the neighbourhood
were in,

we could weave
in the most
of places,
and become
princes or
or gods
or demons,
for life was not
the role you donned
but knowing
that the devil
was still
your friend,

but over time
a propogated
and a perfected
of a skewed
consistently fed
to our
and insatiable

…and yet
years on,
we seem
to fight
all that
we have
now become,
to often escape,
the joyless present
which often
creeps up
on us,

to run back to
that place
of comfort,
from where
we had
once begun,
to relive
and fantasize,
the fantasy
of them,
the them
that in reality
we actually

© vidursahdev 2019

The Wind and Me

i whisper to the wind,
the storms
of my heart,

with my eyes closed,
and my arms
wide apart,

though i see her not,
and i know
hold her i can’t,

i surrender my all
and breath
her in,

i surrender my all
as i breath
her out,

in her own uncanny way
she extracts
the perturbation,

calming the senses
and balming
the heart,

exiting with a whisper
once her work
is done,

but leaving me empty
in a strange
melancholic way,

making me look forward
to the next
rising storm.

© vidursahdev 2019