Who says our years ‘ll go by like the stars,
Like a flick among these visions of time,
All that we dreamt together, and all oaths
That we took under that sky, now rhyme,
We shall meet someday, we’ll again love.
These are the people who will laugh more,
They will find a reason to make our name,
An epitaph of time, a graveyard of dreams.
Drop now if you trust these veins that flow.
Chisel the toughest stones into a sculpture
Of love again, among the metaphors of life.


Wish I vacate this stage soon enough, soon again
For more darkness to cover and in quiet, give birth
To more light that will guide every passerby in tune
With dusted steps leading to the sepulcher of a saint.
Who says death ends and life blooms, who dreams
Among the surreal symphonies of a sundry sand dune?
Who in life could defy the destined end with a mirth?
Who could stand through the spring and fall again?

In tempests we don’t tremble, with ignorance we do,
Among the rainbow streaks we seek often differences,
We fall to rise again and we often die, to be born sane.
He who speaks is not a monument of time, nor fences
The fear and hope of our soul, nor seeks what is true.
He who listens to the wind and touches the life of time,
Stands taller to laugh at every feat, our ego attains.
We will soon someday meet again and greet the dew.

I am neither old, nor crawling with the softest dream;
I am time, join me to sail through the unending stream.

Not fear, but our faith does the wonder
When you know you are in love for sure.
Look above, the stars are waiting for long,
Look below the ripples sing the moon song.
Yes, it all passes in a dream, all look at us
As if we promised to live forever and cross
The waves of fate, storm of an unknown time
And to grow among the weeds of the world
Into an oak of life that will ring and rhyme
The spirit of the serene, the heart of gold.
We are the immortals; our fear dies with time.
Every journey at the end meets the sublime.

Keep the faith on! Keep the faith on!

The Dreamer

Alone when I stand and see these pages
Of faces with sweat and surging brows
At the crossroad, in the crowd, among the hedges
Of crimson cast sky and a brazen desire;
Shadow to shadow neither offers more,
nor instinct succumbs to serene pledges.
The Dreamer walks alone!


The storm has calmed down now by the time
That touched you and touched me with love.
Let death distance us if it can with its strength,
We will be born again and again with our faith
That shall beat its wings with the dearest dove,
And sing the melody among lives so sublime.

Let thoughts be the orchestra and eyes paint
Desires unknown to the most reasoning minds,
Let this war be over, we’ll talk to the moments,
And walk on the green grass feeling the dews.
Let the temple doors open again and we light
The lamp and bow before the greatness of god.

The stones will remain, the soul will but flee
To its own kingdom of heaven where no fear
Will ever stand, no greed will ever question
The intent of life, the dissent for every death.
Let the muses come and guide us to the tree
Where flowers of gold breathe enough faith.
Let love fill every bard, let blessed be the eyes
As we greet every passing moment and rise.

Yes, it is a symphony, very much here and now;
Pause at this moment and gather all the dreams,
All hope, and all that everyone wished us ever.
Fear is like a tattered coat, why wear it anymore,
Not thorns, but the beauty every rose is known for.

Who says you are alone among those dark towers?
Who says we are left only with the bleak hours?
Gather your breath and close the eyes for a while,
There stands the God we search, there is the smile,
There’s more heaven when we see the sky in this isle.

Those soft leaves of love now turn forever into gold,
Those faces like apparitions far disappear in cold.
Not enough time then remains for an adieu or ahoy,
Some lives are not chosen but become stars as told
Some moments that we wish much to become forever.

leaf.jpgIt’s been so many years on this earth, so many moments, so many experiences that life puts us into so skillfully that we apparently feel, we are writers of our own destiny. Today, standing somewhere in the middle of my journey, I paused and wanted to reflect my hope into the air that enveloped me under the mincing sun rays of a spring afternoon. What I found was a dried leaf that unintentionally rested on the ground with so much to tell, so much to share, so much meaning for someone who looks deeper into the threads of a fabric called our journey. This leaf certainly came out of the moist possibility that nature would have inspired to make the tree grow till it can, it would have surely seen the seasons pass by, so untouched yet grow with it so undaunted. There would have been flowers that got nourished so much by this leaf and fruits that would have resulted after a natural effort, without looking back at who offered what. The pursuit of our life is so much similar to this leaf. We are born to live, but time scathingly satirizes our effort to an end so much scripted to a moment when everything seems ceasing. Helpless, hopeless it may look like at times. But the essence of life certainly is at the end we contributed to the tree of life by whatever we could, with our abilities inspired by experiences. There is no universe that can deny that existence is not inspiring. There is no tree that can hold the leaf forever. Yet it holds it again and again, for it to fall. The essence of life is to realize surely, this truth that we do our best to whatever role we are assigned to, in this tale of eternal love.

Smile at everything that comes across and we are through.

This photograph was taken at a walkway in Sector 17 Chandigarh today that inspired this thought.