As you leave.

As you leave.

Stairs, we take.

hoping the floors never end,

we never speak,

like the divided leaves, 

that never makes a noise in the wind,

as they broke apart.

Routes, we change.

The one we take isn't  that long,

nothing seems to be,

I walk slow , slower than 

the footsteps of shadows

and silence, that follows yours,

Everything runs in circles,

but this path doesnt. 

buildings, we see.

Where once i began,

Held your hand and

walked through a home of sand,

Chairs and shapes,

Like games of children,

they never change.

And you are still the same.

And I am the falling stone,

trying to win over gravity,

Like that salt which fights

against the sea.

As you leave, 

and this time passes ,

I try to make the hands 

of the clock meet,

and keep them near

 for more than 

a minute. 

Living.

I generally take a lot of quick snaps of the sky and the trees, whenever am outside.

Maybe cause , I see a life in them. The only living things around.

Unlike the rush of busy streets and people walking around.

It's getting darker now.

It's getting darker now.
A night, that slumbers inside my empty pockets,
And the sun still hides inside your eyes.


Sleep.
No one cares for a morning tonight.

The days that went by

The days that went by
when the wind was dead,
And i walked with people 
outside my door,
 the scattered drops on the glass ,
with my fingers
i drew your face
and made something
which you never were. 


Artists make mistakes,
But I wrote a poetry of seven and half lies
And now am ,
Sleeping with a wet letter
All your names and my sign,
unread, untouched truths inside,


May be ,
you will open it after ages,
that which was a mistake once
will end up as a sin of present.


the days that are to come,
I still feel the wind is dead,
But you are walking with me,
with open doors,
giving me a shelter from rain,
when I never shared a sun,
 the scattered drops on the glass ,
with your fingers
you draw my face
and turn the water into a me
which i never can be. 

turn to dust.

color me black,

 like those 

secrets, which sleeps

 as weeds

 on lips  

of that woman.

          

     she  walked for ages,

      with a piece of wood,

       searching for a broken cradle,

    And there she stands

       in-between upside down pots

    and wet grasses ,

  to wrap her son's clay. 

        color me yellow,

        like those  

     sun-rays, which settles

        as fires,

      on dreams

       of that man.

    He walked by shores,

    across sands and stones,

   Like a poetry in a beggar's sleep

     Stealing away two orphaned stars,

    And there he stands

 in-between upside down pots

     and the jealous night,

     to wrap his last sleep.

color me concurrently,

  all those

  shades, which snitches,

    as reflections,

 of a rainbow

  in drops.

   we are nothing but

   those drops that run through leaves,

 we stand in a row on the edge,

     and pretend to fall

   a million times,

      while it slowly breezes ,

   before we truly meet the ground

   and turn to dust. 


  In-between upside down pots
and wet grasses.

Walk besides me.

Yes 

sometimes am lonely and lost,

but am not alone.

the red trees walk/will walk besides me

 all the way ,

 till am gone.

You will return.

I watch you from the otherside,

No one shows you a land tonight.

Winter is no where near,

But you will wait no more,

you will fold your hands,

and make wings,

like a migratory bird

you will return back home,

even before the morning shines.

Dont listen to them.

people, they say,

 to sell.

You , you can mould a song.

Sing it,

you can sing it for me.

You, you can tell me again

cry it,

i will listen with silence,

till the night is gone. 

Just like my yesterdays

the tommorows will be red.

May be i will walk again,

from that path I left,

or that i began.

May be i will sing again

that sad song of heaven

or that of hell.

Left or right, past or present,

I know nothing about me

neither the four walls i see.

But i know when summer comes

you will be home again.

And i will dream of you,

the way you  look through your window pane,

waiting for the rain.

I watch you from the otherside,

No one shows you a land tonight.

I cant read the road signs,

Nor see the lights ,

But i know you break and bend, 

and will stand again,

Like circles it will  return,

like a string less kite you will fly

And return back home,

even before, the morning shines.