On my way back

Buildings, logos, lights
stream past metro’s windows – my
nightly bioscope




pours out its grief

breathes in, fills its lungs

with fresh ones

and moves to the next


like the old ones

who let their hearts out before anyone who listens

A day in the life of a romantic

WP_20160726_001How do you express your feelings, in words that bear the essence of the oomph the earth lets out, every time a bead of rain plants a peck on it?

How do you tether the awe that exudes from the forms of life that exist in the weeds which grow where nothing else does, but that which is approved by men?

When do you stop falling for the cruelty that whips your body with smiles, and the words that brand you with burns of the collective unconscious?

I don’t have answers to any of these.

All I have is a desire, soaked around the helms with a touch of patience – a desire to discover.

P.S. I expect a little sense of adventure, too, which I intend to borrow from a friend, and a few wise words from my parents and teacher-friends – words that have aged like pickles.