Awakening

Walking upto the windows shut,
opened in a momentary lapse;
the sun rays shoot in,
through closed lace curtains
of pale pure white and
intensify the wistful red
of my dress that flutters in
the trickling breeze like
gypsies tamed, while he
sleeps.

The light brightens,
glorifying the shades of my
dark dull skin,the reflection
like a never before appearance
and the light moves down in
gentle reassurance like the
experienced hand of tender touch
with its intention luminous,
desire stark and he sleeps,
unsuspecting.

My hair in electrified movement,
my fingers clutch the windows for
support and the wind blows, imprisoning
itself in me as I move to make
space for a multiplying spell that
binds me in dependable illusion..

I shut the windows and the darkness
storms in. He wakes for a cup of
coffee.

Desert(ed) to Glory. (Journeys 2)

A mirage that is alluring
like the deception of magic;
it vanishes when I move forth
and reappears like playful spirits.
And each time I stand up
to walk after the bluff, this
apparition calls unto me
to only fade in the sands.
A weary traveller, where am I?
In this destination that eludes me.
A million nights, dusty days
bumpy rides and weariness
and this journey goes on..
In the cities I dream of men
with aplomb, riches, jewels a
ton of fanfare with life on
the fast lane. It is the
progressive sentience..
Ah but in the cities I was
blinded from the crux,
from hardships and restraints.In the
cities the dearth is forever covered.
I search for wisdom that
for centuries mankind has scorned,
shunned as if it were unclassified waste
that has now piled up and left us a pile
of questions.
This civilisation of carnal developments
fails to sway me.And I move towards
the miragethat will
at one sun set become
mine.

A parallel World. (Jouneys-1)

A thousand snows have passed by,
in the multitudes of time.
And each sunrise with,
its ray of promise paradise has,
created the refractions

Of intense clouds that gather
a thick hull
and, we move on, like marching soldiers-
in uniform.

Deaths that cast an interlude
in the endlessness, the purposelessness
of the unthinking world;
come, fall again into this merry go round
of life and death and rebirth and survival.


As if faith matters, when truth is gamble
and if I thrive on lies, I will be damned.
A thin line between these contraries
that shapes the paradoxes of the world.