Merry Go Round...

The wrinkled sheet still loiters around,
Waiting restlessly for its first touch
From the nerves of a vacuous mind,
Hustling, deficient of a sturdy hold.

Tepid as the rising sun, gleaming
Past the drapes of translucent mists
That have persisted for long enough
Under the vigilant night sky.

Sweeping across like an unbound storm
Through mazes of the catholic woods,
Seeking among the wreck henceforth
A leaf that remained unturned.

Timid as the withering sunset, realizing
Its inevitable lurch towards darkness,
Merrily accepting its destiny everyday
Despite being aware of its purpose.

Overhearing those countless words
The nightlong silence carries within,
Striving to retrieve the tales forgone,
Preserving impressions for life.

The wrinkled sheet still loiters around,
As arises the next dawn, tepidly.
A vicious circle follows unconsciously
With a meaning barely imminent...

The Indivisible Thunder...

I swept an optimistic glare across

To find something that I own,

The abundance of tangible stocks,

Only to find it’s just me alone.

Countless arrays of discreet things,

Large and small, living and dead.

But not one could I claim mine,

Before I was urged to step ahead.

Looking up at that indefinite sky

After an arduous consciousness,

I wished for a peace of the blue

That’d walk alongside nevertheless.

“Should I jump extending my arms?”

“Or should I wait for it to descend?”

“Should I divulge what I intend?”

“Or should I wait for it to pretend?”

“Can I ever even be able to touch it?”

“And is it really blue?” I did wonder.

Presuming idly the white responses,

I stirred forth the awaiting thunder.

It’s always been walking alongside

Since I first beheld the glary summit.

I wish I hadn’t feared the unwritten,

I wish I had then ignored my wit...

The Wait...

Wondered why thunder roared after lightening,

A kid, awed by the mystery lines that glowed,

Seeking for an open grave to bury his tiny ears

Dreaded by the inevitable that followed.

Though the spines did announce the ingress,

Fell a breathing statue with clenched fists,

Innocently formulating strategies to deceive

The amorphous beast while it’d exist.

His heart pounded like a little orchestra

After the diverging flashes had faded away,

Presuming it’d swallow the marching band

Before its intrusion as a furious gray.

Swirled his mind benignly, ahead of time,

Trying to weigh the upcoming fate.

Even with the clock steadily walking forth,

Patiently persisted the impatient wait.

The few trembling moments that followed,

Momentarily throttled the air around.

Wished to be a statue, breathless, before

He saw the first drop touching the ground.

The humming fragrance off the moist soil

Made him wish to be breathing again,

To be standing gracefully, to be climbing,

Just to fall again...

High and not Drunk!

The day...

What am I thinking? I don’t know. Am I thinking of anything at all? Why am I not thinking of anything? There are millions of topics out there! Just pick one damn it! Nothing! Oh, there are billions of words out there. Just pick a word and make a topic out of it. Nope, not a word! How can I not think of anything at all? Any damn thing! How can I be all blank?

Oh wait, I am definitely thinking whether I am thinking of something. But Am I really thinking of something? If I am, then why can’t I think of what I am thinking? It is because you aren’t thinking at all you fool! But if I’m not thinking, then what is it that keeps moving inside my head? Something is definitely there. It can’t be all empty you know, or can it be? So what exactly is my brain doing when it is not thinking? Is it roaming somewhere else without telling me? But it is my brain. It can’t go anywhere without telling me, or can it?

Oh, the fan. It’s hanging from the ceiling. It has three blades. But why isn’t it working right now? It is winter you fool. But can move once in a while during winter, can’t it? Oh, it is all naked and might catch cold during winter. Poor fan!

What is he thinking? How in the sane world can I know that? I don’t even have his brain. But what is his brain doing? Is it too roaming somewhere without telling him? Shall we go find our brains? But he seems fine, calm. Is it because he too isn’t thinking anything at all? Or is he too wondering about what I am thinking?

Why do they say that ‘A watched phone never rings’? I am not watching it right now. And it isn’t ringing. What else can you do other than ‘Watching’ or ‘Not watching’ the phone? Nothing! Does that mean a phone won’t ring ever? If it isn’t going to ring, why have I kept a ring tone then? Damn you phone!

Why is he laughing now? He might be thinking about something funny. Why am I not thinking about something funny? I can laugh too then. Or am I already laughing and my face isn’t telling me? But it is my face after all! It can’t laugh without me knowing, or can it? Why aren’t my parts with me? Have I done something wrong? Oh look, he is laughing again! He’s is thinking about all these funny things and I can’t think of any damn thing, even a boring thing!

I can’t think of anything and I have ring tone in my phone, when the fan doesn't even have a blanket to protect itself from the cold. What a waste am I!  I better stop thinking. Tomorrow, I shall definitely think of something to think upon!

The day after...

What was I thinking yesterday? I don't know. Was I thinking anything at all? Why was I not...

Melody or Melancholy?

A clear night sky without a star,

A refreshing wound without a scar,

A distance worth a thousand miles,
Yet a life remains, not so far.

Standing still, but not a ground,
Piercing screams, but not a sound,
Oscillating like an elastic shadow,
Wandering, yet always around.

A stubborn rain, but not a drop,
A restless dream, but not a stop,
Falling steadily into the abyss
From but not a mountain top.

An immortal fire, but not a flame,
An elusive intrusion, but not a blame,
Moments from yesterday frozen still,
A scattering today, but not a claim.

Neck deep flood, but not a smear,
A transparent maze, but not a steer,
A day by and a night nigh,
Divulging every day the piling fear.

An enduring effect without a cause,
An unending song without a pause,
An undefined soul stands beautiful
Despite its countless flaws...