Too Young

Clouds, delicate and feathery,
Dancing in the sky
To the beat of the winds;
Too wild to stop here,
Too young to know
Where to go next.

Live

Live for the flowers you haven’t seen in full bloom,
For the constellations you aren’t friends with,
For the dance of the Northern Lights on the skyline you haven’t been audience to.
Live for the cats you haven’t cuddled with,
For the dogs whose noses who are yet to boop,
For the birds you haven’t chortled along with.

Finding Myself

Scorched by the Sun,
Scratched by the thorns,
I walk through streets and woods alike
In a desperate pursuit.
Melting into a puddle of tears,
Freezing in the hold of a frigid numbness.
A lone wolf out for hunt,
Or perhaps just a helpless pup roaming in the city , barely alive.

Sunshine & Flowers: Nature Photography🌼

Actually, it’s nature itself that creates the most beautiful pictures, I’m only choosing the perspective.

Loving You

This and that are things,
And you are not.
You are the reason, the protagonist, the very center of this saga.
It’s for the Moon to wax and wane,
For the tides to rise and fall,
For you to love yourself
Even when it gets hard,
Even when it is blue.

Happy Republic Day, India!

Stargirl

Bestowed with a quiet endurance,
Armed with a stubborn will to be and to do,
You are fierce even when your heart is up in the flames
All former plans burnt down to ashes,
Did you steal your spirit from the Sun, little Phoenix?

You First❤

With the lively words you say to the world, and the secrets that lie dead in your bosom,
In success parties and emergency meetings,
Between the pop of champagne and the tenth cup of black coffee,
It is you first.

Stoic Beauty /Blogmas ’21

There is beauty in the stitches that bind the split ends of supple skin,
And converge the otherwise parallel roads of life and death.
In the marks of bravery cradled close to one’s chest, guarding the soundly beating heart behind it,a heart that’s long immune to quakes of terror.
In the deep indentation adorning a rather muscled bicep and in both fresh and fading bruises, reflecting the strength channeled towards the struggle.

Bloom /Blogmas ’21

A rivulet of sweat rolls down your forehead, threatening to invade the right eye.
You huff and shut your eyelids tight, wiping it off with the back of your left hand and resume work.
Oh, these tiresome days!
Unending hours of sweltering in the enraged sunlight, bruised red and burnt brown from its fire piercing your skin.
You feel like you’d melt under the heat of the predicament, or perhaps, vapourise into thin air.
But, even with the looming possibility of a blackout, ragged breathing and shaking limbs, you stand there persistently.