the long road

all the leaves have fallen, the sky is gray
the nests atop are failing, they're flying away
all along the long road, I cannot stay


birds return in the morning, their nests they lay
before it lay sundered, in the passing gale
how long before the darkness, I cannot say

how long can I go on the road that goes nowhere

the end

And so it has ended
the summer blooms have withered away
and with them, their scent and smell

the birds too have flown back to their nests
will they ever come back again?

and so it has ended

and the time has come
for us to part
to meet again
or not
neither of us know …

an ode before it ends

'tis late, sleep, little child,
'tis too much for the tender eyes
to endure staying awake

rest now, while the air is mild,
and the moonlight soft espies
the silent night unrake


as I watch thy angelic smile,
sweet slumber lost in many a dream,
blissfully unmindful of the coming trial,
nestled by the cozy cloak agleam.

I've let you down, my child, I confess
hiding my face to muffle a cry,
the world is not as fair as I profess
hope ebbs as dawn draws nigh

I cannot bear to watch it fade,
to watch your eyes despair,
but the meek man is ever preyed
morrow, I won't be there

A flash of life

The empty space all around,
it is dark, it is vacant

No sound, no touch, no light,
just darkness, all pervading

Slowly, a feeling, a thought surrounds,
invisible, tangible, illusive,

it is deep, it is intense but unknown,
it has no form, vague, unclear

chaos all around but there is a sense of order,
almost visible, almost seen

speckles illuminate the darkness,
there is a presence, a discernible order emerging

the movement, synchronous, consummate,
the spreading energy becoming obvious,

there in a spiral, going around
the shape, the light the whole,

perfect order, symmetry unseen,
fractals no more, spinning into a singularity

There is a flash, a moment of perpetual energy,
the infinity is created, it is life, it is born

as the years go by, a hope

And so the years go by, such the time flies away,
like pages flipping in the wind,
like leaves of an autumn evening,

not knowing where the wind will take us,
not knowing where the story will resume,

we are at once the traveler and the onlooker.


But the times are a changing,
it was meant to pass by,
the leaves had to fall,
for new ones to spring high,


to accept is not to resign,
but to open the arms wide,

the change can be welcomed,
adorned and cognized.


it is about this moment,
and that it becomes the next and the next.

it is accepting the transients,
and understanding the eternal and invariant.

The innocence isn't lost,
only forgotten or asleep.

on relationships and expectations

Expecting things from a close friend comes so naturally. We get attached to someone for some reason and start creating expectations. But why?

If I consider someone very close to me, it doesn't mean that the other person also considers me equally close to him or her. In fact, being a different person, their definition of closeness itself might be totally different.

Why do I still expect them to respond for certain things? And when they don't, why do I get disappointed?

Is this the nature of relationships? Can I still consider someone a really close friend even if they don't? Can I simply keep loving, without expecting love in return? Is love, after all, such a selfish concept that one loves only for getting love back?

a simple wish

one evening, I wish I had,
if only one evening

when the wind carries me
without any purpose
with no destination in mind

when I do not strive to control
when I do not fear any unforeseen,
when I float away, uninhibited, unruffled

feeling each crest flow through me
no distant shore in mind
no yearning, no desire to fulfill

a moment, not forgetting the worries
but indeed not having any

a moment, not of a lapse of reason
but of its culmination