Mostly Poetry and other musings

Let a Theatre be my Resting Place

Walking out this dome of epic proportions

Chaotic mind stood still in contemplations

Natural at no thing in this world, ever

Only felt a vision realized in cherished fervor

Started with a talking box, near it I lunched

Engrossed in the makers’ mind, munched

To worlds unknown, to thoughts coerced

In the palm of fellow another, traversed

To thousand lands, with hundreds escaped

Never far away, always earthed, shaped

Burn bright, live long, hope millers binged

Many tried, many closed in but singed

Nothing compares and only babbles next to

“My Arrakis, my Dune”; emotions chip and shatter

To the gods I do not believe in and know do not exist

If not under a tree or the stars that persist

As the thumping, the chants and gasps appease

I plead to sit with this visual ballad and be haunted by peace

THE BELLS OF A WINTERY SPRING

Wild at heart and wild in beauty

My burden is gone into the eternity

Life it gives around the perpetuum

Relieving the insanity of our built domes

No agreements and no deceit

The mounatin cares not does it?

Tiresome and grueling it demands

All you can do but obey its commands

A tryst with it cannot just be cherished

The word’s small for emotion to embellish

Come rain, sun or snow

And the winds and storms that blow

My thirst and will will never bend

My walk towards nature never end

‘For I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep’

HELL OR HIGHWATER

The roses that grow in the snow

Still stream of petals when blown

What’s real and what’s not

Pondering is a waste of thought

Every corner and every turn

A curve ball thrown and a mind that burnt

A myriad in the sky and a myriad in my ears

Left on the galaxy’s edge the load is full of ire

Come hell or highwater in this desert

Change will be here to wash away this hurt