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If the harsh heat of Sun burns your bare skin, worry not.

For the same heat keeps you and everything around you alive.

If the quizzical uncertainties threaten to engulf your sanity, fret not.

For those uncertainties may be the string of hope for bleak possibilities nearing reality.

If the offensively luminous flash of light blinds every cell of your eyes, cry not.

For the luminosity might be carrying the photons bearing the message of tranquility for someone.

If the bare edge of glass mercilessly cuts open the skin around your flesh, hurt not.

For the same glass might be holding the finest wine to be poured in someone's glass.

But remember, remember this like one of your favorite childhood stories,

That when the Sun doesn't burn your skin, but brings warmth,

When the uncertainties come greet you with undying hope,

When the flash of light illuminates the darkness inside your soul,

When the edge of glass cuts your cord with the misery that bounds you,

Don't turn your back to yourself.

For the universe might not align the stars for you again.

They saw demons in the daylight,

They found allies in the dark,

They heard shrieks from the alleys,

Places where their memories were parked,

And when the doors of pity did open,

They'd jump back into their pits,

Put on the blanket of ominous silence,

They'd bury their eyes in the hollows.

Where the loudest sound was a whisper,

Of the wind that teased the yellowing paper,

Such was the place of their hiding,

A cellar without a tinge of hue.

The words collide, scatter and recoil,
Before my lips make a turmoil,
So I trap the words that fail to escape,
And bind them to form futile, arrhythmic poems,
Yet my words stay as meaningless as the whispers of the dead,
While every ear plays deaf.

Drowning in the gleam,

Of the eye catching sheen,

On the face of waters deep,

Under the calm of palm trees,

Cuddled in the arms of breeze,

Wrapped in warm memories,

My worries are put to sleep,

That's when I think of thee,

I think of thee,

Playing hide and seek,

In the garden of belief,

Far from the realm of grief,

The glimpse of glee on your face,

Worth more than jewels of a king,

I want to live that joy,

What better gift could I buy,

And not the ruins and remains,

Or the memories of dreary days,

From when hearts were loaded,

With only fury and vengeance.

I was twirling in the dark,
When the sky embarked,
On the hunt night-long,
With the army of stars,
In search of rebels on the Earth,
The glimmer in my eyes got me caught.

The Unresolved Enigma

A shadow, discerning, imitating in ways unrecognizable, wanders unrecognized,

A spirit finding spirit, too beyond the scope of senses to comprehend and rationalize,

Virtuous, fervent, instinctive, knitted altogether,

Looking for the scattered pieces of truth to gather.

Contest between puffs and drugs was to end at a verdict,

Liquor stole away the ruling, the crown, leaving both astounded.

They say let your steps find you your destination,

How are steps to know of their absurdity when heart is in domination?

For togetherness, apart-ness exist not, what is separation? Illusion.

Then why seek limit when you can reach infinity?

What did you see with eyes opened? Nothing.

What when you closed them to open the inner ones? Everything.

Longing of retention knocked at the door asking for asylum,

Was refused with words telling why beg when you already have it? You're misguided.

When truth kept a mask plastered on its ever-so-rare enchanting face,

Smile was used as disguise, followed never ending spell of mesmerizing quietness.

For the nothingness, the goodness inexistent,

Came an accepting call for the list of flaws, consistent.

Question of finding what was finding the finding arose,

The answer was there all along, the findings never found it out.

If ends were the ends, the world would have ended countless times,

Life is a journey through thick and thin, we call them good and bad times.

Talk about ceasing of ecstasy, eternity evoked,

Tell if any of the oceans ever said it had water no more?

To see the concealed, time embarked on a new journey,

A journey with the same start and destination, ever heard of it?

Happiness lost its way, worry could not avoid haste,

Thoughts, words and acts were there, subtly, way back to home was made.

The wind of wilderness withered solace away,

The thorn felt the agony, ironically, wailed for it to be taken away.

Serenity found its way to reach storm's elusive ears,

It whispered a tranquil note of hope, a gentle little gesture.

Not knowing the aversion, the underlying uncertainty of the storm,

Serenity kept overlooking and miscalculating the direction of the storm,

The storm still wanders in solitude, searching for serenity, mangling it in despair.

How is serenity to know the storm could never resolve the mystery it hid?

So like a shadow, a mirror, it will keep imitating and reflecting everything,

Knowing having nothing to own, no applause, doesn't ever bother it.

Beyond the limits of time and space,
Beyond the world of humans and race,
Under the spell of stars in the night sky,
Over the oozy layer of sand, let's catch light,
When the moonlight kisses your lucid, stern face,
In the mystifying embrace of solemn solace,
Listen to the serene song of moving water waves,
Pluck the strings of my heart with words you never say,
I will listen to the silence, the sound of your breaths,
While the cool breeze coaxes you till the child in you falls a prey,
To the emptiness of your heartbeat, amplifying in your veins,
Sing to me the song you like the least, is what you'd do next,
Till the hollowness shies away, sing till there's no agony left.

Wanderer

The moonlit tides of the sea settle,
At the sandy shore of the land of palms,
The gusty restless winds of memories cuddle,
With the train of thoughts traveling down the road to calm,
The blood-stained hands that just won the battle,
Bear the name of the sufferer written on the palm.

In the light of the Sun getting ready to gleam,
Set the sailor at dawn on the journey to glee,
Wearing the armor of disapproval, shield of disdain,
The ship sailed to a destination with no name,
To him silence is solace, darkness is grace,
Beauty is ghastly and freedom a treasure rare.

As the sky falls asleep in the lap of the night,
I wander in the territory of my thoughts wild,
A mysterious touch of a whisper travels through my ears to my eyes,
Bringing mist in the air, I try to look out but fail to find
I flinch for a while then return to the rhythm of my life
I'm the wanderer that never visits the same place twice.

I remember crying over the funerals of my heart,

When I disremembered that I never had a beat to dance on,

I loved the voices that resonated inside my mind,

They echoed in every bone of mine,

Now that I know it was a deadly delight,

In my ears hollowness whispers in tone impolite,

I am hollowness, hollowness is I.

What is it?

It's not the eerie silence that fills the space around me,
It's not the stillness of the breeze I once used to float in,
It's not the departed felicity that ran along with my breaths,
It's not the steps retreating themselves to find joy instead,
It's not the lost gentle tease of sunlight brushing my skin,
It's not the dawn stealing away the moon I spend my pulses watching which,
It's not the absence of the letters joy used to write to me once,
It's not the palm of my hands losing hold of serenity,
It's not the colors and life running away from my scenery,
It's not the return of the nothing I have always had with me,
It's not the longing for life to stay with me,
It's not the notion of me being a whisper that never was,
It's not the heart bruised by unrequited sentiments,
It's not the fear of losing what I never had,
It's not the sojourn in this world so transient and short-lived,
It's not living in the fallacy that holds me in its wings,
It's not my words always mangling the peace of my heart,
It's not my voice not being heard or misheard all this time,
It's not the realization of "What is meant to be, will be",
It's not my ears not hearing any echo for so long,
It's not the bullets fired from guns piercing my disguised skin,
It's the fear of the demons deep inside me which dwell,
It's the fear of my demons tearing everything so dear I hold to myself.