poetry
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When We Pack Our Life Into Two Days A Week, My Love…
When we pack our life into 2 days a week,we’re not just folding clothes into a bag.We’re creating memories – with the people we love,and for the people we love. A little bit of pamperingwith food, laughter, and love.A little bit of funplaying around like kids with badminton rackets in hand.A little bit of rest and relaxationjust lying down, letting the world slow. A little bit of staring at the sky,singing your favorite song,watching your favorite shows.Skimming through a comfort bookas the sun tans your skin further.And later, staring at the stars,wishing for a life with ease. And then you…
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The Echo of Discourse
It lingers still,those fractured frames of memory,etched in the static of my thoughts.Your cursed cryptic wordsencrypted, fragmented, staying alive in me… Through me…still haunt the algorithm of my discourse. Some nights,the void stares back harder,a black hole swallowing the lastof my certainties.But I know,it’s just my past reflection fracturing,a glitch in my solitude. How often have I scrolled,paused at your pixelated silhouette,searching for proof of existence,a breadcrumb of your now,as if that image could patch the cracks. What ache,what unbearable ache,a virus in the system,a loop of trust corrupted. And then the whispers came,warnings disguised as wisdom:“Never trust shadows that…
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Echoes of Liberation
The one who beheld the true beauty of darkness knows the vanity of the moth. The one who feels the pain of self and the pain of others knows the true depth of suffering. The one who succumbed to the allure of flight has seen the terror of fright. And the one who has nothing to lose is honored with the strength of the fight. The one who felt the depth of affection knows the emptiness it leaves behind. And the one who can sense the soil beneath their feet knows the essence of freedom. If this is what it…
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The Mountain’s Whisper – Poem
He says that Mountain never excites him,But he savors the views as he reaches the mountain’s peak.He always says he never love that Mountain,But he feels his best while exploring its thickest terrain,Amidst the echo of murmuring beasts. He says he never falls in love with that Mountain,But he always returns, drawn by an irresistible pull when loneliness knocks at his door.He says he is never meant to be a mountain person,But he always comes back broken,And leaves like a golden vase, whole again,As if that Mountain is his true home. He says he never loves that Mountain,But he cherishes…
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To Be Grounded
What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months? I have always felt like I am losing my grip with life. Even after a life-altering event that seemed to put me on track, I still have a part of me that is not healed. The next six months will be challenging for me, as I try to figure out how to be stable and grounded. I need to learn how to stop depending on others, stop hurting myself, quit anything that drains my energy and motivation, stop giving more than I receive and stop getting hurt…
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The Crux Of Time (Poem)
The crux of time, the bleak disaster!When everything is weighed on a broken scaleOne always gives more than the other,While the other grows cold and frail…The scale has never been in equilibrium.The low tide hits hard, a harsh reminderOf how the sea can ebb and flow.One always waits for the other’s returnWhile the other seeks new shores to know.The light that shines only in the darkA faint and flickering star;One always hopes for the other’s sparkWhile the other drifts too far…That’s the timeline of starsLongest in your eyes… The shortest in the space…The crux of time, the bleak disasterWhen your emotions…
A Solivagant's Shoes 