Ramblings of Mind - 4

It is 0020 hrs IST and I am awake.In next 8 hrs I have to be in my office doing some work.I am currently all by myself in my room. And am awake..the reason is my brain..
There is simply too much cluttered inside. And as usual most of it is painful. Personal sorrows or something else, I cannot decide or rather am confused to. what is personal and impersonal? what brings about that distinction? why are there so many sad things happening all around us and inside us and we sit and let them happen"? Finally, either we shut our eyes completely and pretend that they do not exist or we find escapes. All our art and literature and sometimes even religion seems to be an escape from the unhappy reality we face.. all of us, personally, impersonally or collectively. And so we seek something either to pass time or to save us from the eternal hell, that is ourselves.
And most probably, even I may be doing the same..writing all that is coming to my mind. so that it does not torment me so much so that it makes me sleepless.
it is like a ghost in your head, which keeps haunting you both in awakening and dreams.
Is there a reason for all this misery and hatred and war and brutality.
people killing each other and themselves. The sheer brutality that makes hyenas and lions look like angels to me. why have we become so insensitive and callous to the pain and mischief we create for others and more for ourselves?
Is there an escape?????

Name

Do you remember my love, the day,
You asked me, if your name was
Written on my heart?

I opened it up, for you to see.
Lo, it was nowhere to be found !
You left, sad and broken, and I amazed.



I Guess I forgot to tell you,
I had written it in my blood ...

आँखें

मूँद ले कुछ पल को,
ये मद भरी आँखें अपनी

के इक ज़माना हुआ है अब,
होश में आए मुझ को

Death

What it means to die ?

In the arms of your beloved,

Or forsaken, in an alien land?

Some moments of pain and/or joy,

The ever rolling wheel of time,

Is death the final end of it?

A bag of flesh and bones and blood,

Strung on the sinews of breath,

The house of cards, falls apart.

Some songs never uttered, never, never,

Though the soul has sung them so long.

A final note, or is death a new Aalaap?

You and me and he or she,

Friends or strangers; or reflections in the mirror?

All's an illusion; you'll know when it breaks.

Eons and ages and countless sunrises,

I've watched in joy, awe and wonder.

Yet the beauty of the night, only sunset reveals.

Pages after pages; chapters after chapters,

Patterns on sheets, in black and white.

Is death then the last full stop, in my story?

I don't know where I am going,

Only god knows where I've been.

But I know, I journey to my final goal......Like you.

A Wish....

Pale and somber, the last morning of November,
The first dew drop, on the fallen white orchid.
Simmering summer sun, or the blinding vine of thunder,
An enigma; kissed me with lips of mists and you hid.



Quietly, gently, silently, your footsteps of the lotus bloom,
Innocent smile of the baby leaf, and the eyes of skies azure.
Yet those lines of kohl, a border; an arcane forest's gloom,
Your aroma; with breeze it floats, my heartache's only cure.



A milky white swan in my heart's lake,
And a thousand raindrops drenching me; your laughter.
Rainbow hued fantasies; flights they take,
Ruby red wine lips; there taste lingers long after.



The melancholy tranquil, in shadow of the hill,
Echoing silence of fleeting moments passing by.
Though no blank space or chasm does it fill,
Still a haunting vortex of time rises high.



The pink rose buds smile and gaze,
I hold you, in an everlasting embrace
Daffodils swaying, set the valley ablaze,
I've touched the heavens; in your face.



A crystal blue rivulet, glides from the mountain,
As the soft, shimmering sheets of virgin ice melt.
And the young river is born, I don't know when,
The nymph of the valley, wears a silver belt.



The seasons have changed, spring is here,
Bees hum sonnets, o'er the sweet mango pollen.
I know you're gone forever, yet I look everywhere,
Beads of joy; from the life string have fallen.



Its all a game, the matter of luck and chance,
Just a sleight of hand; all's same in the end.
A last flickr of hope, lost in mirage's cruel glance,
Yet I wish, the winds of fate, in my favor I could bend !!