Time

Time

Time stops when it should speed.

Inching like a glacier,

When it should flow like a river, a wild river in spate.

Yet it flies like a bird

When we pursue it

In our time of need.

Anger not time,

For if you make time your enemy,

You will find

Time is ruthless, with no shred of mercy

And no drop of clemency.

Destroyer of all,

Second to none,

It reduces mortals and gods

To the dust and shards

Of a forgotten past.

Yet befriend time,

And you will be the closest

Anyone ever did get

At being truly immortal;

Remembered through the ages,

Your praises will be sung through the ages.

So decide wisely,

and beware.

..........................................................................................................................................................................

this, i believe, was the poem that Aastha showed you, and the one which flipped the switch we keep talking about...

This too shall pass

This too shall pass

All joy and all pain,

All grief and all anger,

All shall pass away.

Some forgotten,

Some put to rest,

And others, they remain

In the twilight of the mind.

All wounds and all scars,

All heartbreaks and partings,

All shall be healed.

Let Time heal and Patience lessen

The pain, the trauma and the agony you bore.

Let it all fade away,

Until even the scars are but a memory,

The pain even more so.

But let not the joy be forgotten fully;

Let it remain as an embalmed rose,

Past its time,

But still fragrant.

This paradox called me

This paradox called me

So very mature

Yet still, so

Helplessly immature.

So hopelessly corrupted,

But retaining innocence,

Just like a child.

So much anger, but

Such a calm façade,

Who can solve this riddle?

Is there one who can explain

Or even comprehend,

This paradox called me?

A know-it-all am I,

Who knows nothing.

Called a genius, when

In reality I am

Just another idiot.

So confused and frustrated

As to what am I?

Man, imp, or illusion.

Or a sentient puzzle

Created by god to baffle

The entire world and me.

Fire and ice,

Jekyll and Hyde.

Am I two persons

Bound in one body

To endure this madness/

Or else is everyone

As crazy as I feel?

A cryptic puzzle,

Yet the simplest riddle.

The sphinx’s smile

Or just an unopened file.

Really, who can decipher

This mad mind of mine,

This cipher that I be?

The word

The word

There echoes through the streets,

Lonely and deserted,

One word;

The scream of a lonely man,

Berating his life,

Cursing his luck

And dying within.

The word rolls around

And echoes off the walls

Of his now deserted house.

He wonders if it reaches

The ears of the One above;

He wonders why

There is no answer.

He strains his ear

Trying to hear

What silence may be whispering,

As an answer to his question,

“Why?”
..................................................................................................................................................................
dedicated to Yamraj

The shrine

The shrine

Every time I laugh,

Fully and freely,

It is for you .

Every time I weep,

Weeping out my heart,

It is because of you .

All of my highs

And all my lows,

They all , somehow

Seem to involve you .

So now,

Everything I do,

Say, think , live,

Write and feel,

It is but another offering

On the altar that I built

In my minds shrine,

In your name

And with you in mind.

Thoughts in the Rain

Thoughts in the Rain

Getting drenched in the rain

And listening

To soft songs.

Wishing to be

In a fast moving car,

With no destination;

Getting my face and hair

Buffeted by the wind.

Thinking of the good,

The ugly and the bad,

And things in between.

Remembering nearly forgotten memories

Stored in the vaults

Deep within my mind...

Beat

Beat

For whom does my hear beat?

Dost thou beat

For thine and myself,

Out of a sense of duty

And responsibility

To keep me alive?

Or does thou beat

For someone

Yet unseen

And unmet?