Pic : Self

In a world
of endless journeys
i took paths
some twists
and unexpected turns
me of
the road that was
to be
the safest
to travel on,

charted paths
historical evidence
of multitudes
of travellers
and achieving
their perceived
in line
with dictums
of society
at large,

and i wandered unknowingly
into forests unknown
where familiarity
of preached doctrines
no longer aids
my steps
but the mind
now alive
with the endless
of just being
a vagabond.

© vidursahdev 2018


The Fabric of Life

Pic : Self

Unweaving woven threads
sometimes a necessity,

borne out of,
deceptive materials at large,

fingers deft
at putting them together,

now fumble
and quiveringly linger,

to undo their
own painstaking craft,

broken strands
can’t hold others,

weaken even those
that run their course,

and over time
the holes only grow,

Now undone,
each thread on its own,

time for the culprits
to be let go,

the fingers search
with experienced eyes,

for threads that love
being intertwined,

to weave a new fabric
once again from the start,

resilient in each strand
that’ll make its core,

and together those
that now shall meet,

will withstand,
the ominous tests of time.

© vidursahdev 2018

Birdie and Me

Pic : Self

there is no
between you
and me,

as we sit
clutching the
thin lines
that run across
different worlds,

our momentary
often invisible
to eyes focussed
on their own

like innate props,
on a stage
full of actors,
we silently observe
than we say,

and when
the sun
dims the lights,
we retire
to our own
hidden worlds,

my lamp
comes on
to tease
the night,
thoughts to ponder
and some to write,

and I often wonder
what you’d
have to say,
if tonight i could
share my pen
with you,

for you see more
than i ever will,
my flights
of fancy
limited to
my thoughts,

but you
little birdie,
do have
the wings.

© vidursahdev 2018


Pic : Self

in the end
it is just
a comedy of errors,

seemingly stressful
to all
the wonderful

yet harmless
to the picture
that’s larger
than the screen,

holding temporary
till the curtains
are up,

in the end
it is just role
to be played,

with unscripted
and endless
emotions to portray,

each one an artist
with his own
of a heart,

and a party awaits
who are
done with their parts,

in the end
when the costumes
are off,

those tired souls
will get their
last laugh,

when backstage
the radio
will knowingly
play aloud,

and two
will dance
to what was always
their song.

© vidursahdev 2018


Pic : Self

how would you know me
just by my face,
how would you know me
just by my words,
one was a given
and the other just flows,

walk in my shoes
for a day in my life,
there is a long story
to the words that I write,
how else will you know
when you find my walls,
the pictures that hang there
once used to talk,
the cups that now lie empty
used to be full to the top,
with conversations endless
and laughter galore,
moments of madness
and moments of life,

walk in my shoes
for a day in my life,
for how else will you know
the meanings I hide,
the smiles that shine
over the rivers that flow,
reflections are in plenty
but none that can be held,
the words maybe simple
but interpretations untold,
everything sounds good
yet nothing seems right,
sounds can be deafening
and silences a fright,

walk in my shoes
for a day in my life,
and the sunset
will tell you,
what the sunrise
never could.

© vidursahdev 2018

Uninked Thoughts

Pic : Internet

Take a dip,
into my

for there are those,
that’ll never
find ink,

in the clouds
of unsaid emotions,

that relentlessly
to hoard,

the effervescent drops,
of your undiluted

the next time
you’ll understand,

the secret language
of those
innocuous raindrops,

that long
to enter
again and again,

but crash
and die

against your

© vidursahdev 2018