Castle of hopes

the midnight soliloquy

and the castle of hopes

with bricks of  permutations,

combinations

built , rebuilt.

sea of  imagination

cool , blue

the tidal fantasy marching ahead,

carefree

don’t  know why

transitory white bubbles

die natural death !

retreating waves

cruising ahead to disseminate

the havoc of  pain.

believe me

the crossroads of  aching silences

will  not  be same again

for the cycle of  impermanence

will replace gloom with  glee ,

after few  hours

with the  new  aurora

castle of  hopes

this  time  will  be  built

on the  as  is  where  is  basis

on  the  edifice  of  living in the present

than  in   past  or  future

and  will be  rebuilt

with  the belief that

everything  happens

for  a  reason !

 

Kamakhya

 

 

 

 

 

Castle of hopes

the midnight soliloquy

and the castle of hopes

with bricks of  permutations,

combinations

built , rebuilt.

sea of  imagination

cool , blue

the tidal fantasy marching ahead,

carefree

don’t  know why

transitory white bubbles

die natural death !

retreating waves

cruising ahead to disseminate

the havoc of  pain.

believe me

the crossroads of  aching silences

will  not  be same again

for the cycle of  impermanence

will replace gloom with  glee ,

after few  hours

with the  new  aurora

castle of  hopes

this  time  will  be  built

on the  as  is  where  is  basis

on  the  edifice  of  living in the present

than  in   past  or  future

and  will be  rebuilt

with  the belief that

everything  happens

for  a  reason !

 

Kamakhya

 

 

 

 

 

Harbinger

the impassioned euphoria, 
the feel-good wintery dreams,
the overcast sky,
appearing like a clean slate,
blue and clear
the stereotype flummery,
sometimes irritates me,
the warmth 
as if gone for a long leave,
even in the holidays time!
and love is reserved,
for equals
or more equals
don't ask..
why not for less equals
or less privileged,
for i  have evolved like this
for years
for my benefits
i don't see the darkness,
behind the sparkling lights
on the streets,
crying faces,
with a lid of despair,
know, by this time,
how unmoved,
the brothers and sisters are
a fiasco of heart,
a zone of endangered compassion
feeling good,
with them
is a wonderful thing to do,
with a joystick of love
for the search engine of heart,
for looking out,
for the supreme light,
elsewhere,
is nothing but a profanity!