Dream peddler

Behind every success, there is a sacrifice…

Behind every puff of smoke, there is a fire…

Behind every love song, there is a love story…

Behind every minute passed in life, there’s one innocence…

 

Every thing we do, there’s an invisible hand, that lights up our way that inspires and infuses. People say life is all about give and take. What you give is what u take! But somewhere I feel there’s always a mismatch. Sometimes what you give to the world is not something you receive. Some cause you are fighting for is not fulfilled. A jigsaw puzzle that has gone awry? Somewhere, at some point of time, we feel a dearth. A desire behind which we gave our best, but still that vacuum is there. The unfulfilled expectation.

 

There’s many a slip between the cup and lip.

 

Why didn’t the love song die, since the love has been lost?

Why wasn’t sacrifice taken back, if we didn’t meet our destination?

Why didn’t the fire in the burning cigarette go down, if the smoke couldn’t kill?

Why didn’t we get back our lost innocence, if every life has one destiny, i.e., death?

 

We have one life. And its destiny? Death! Hell or heaven? Every love song we write, every success we crawl up to, every fire we light up, every minute we pass, every innocence, we leave behind, all has but, one destiny. Still why do we fight back? Why do count the odds? We are we like the sea? Kissing the feet our desire, but could never achieve that, and still we try. Why don’t we give up?  Why do we walk alone, still; in the boulevard of broken dreams?

 

The cup is the desire.

The lip is the will, that invisible hand.

The slip is love.

 

The world still moves because it is “in love”. Love is the invisible hand that makes us go in search of all our dreams. We love our life, that’s why we still breathe. Every thing sums up to love. Love plays god all our lives. Love takes us slowly to eternity, that destination, death. We die in love. But still we love. Every war fought, has love at the end. The love of victory, the love of dominance. Every love story told to us as the love song behind it. The love might have been lost, but not the love song. This the love of sweet submission, the love of defeat, fantasy. Every sacrifice, behind an unfulfilled dream has the love of a fire rekindled, the love of a new dream, and rising from the ashes. Every minute we pass in our life, we look back. It’s the love of our long gone innocence. Our road to reminiscence.

 

 

In our childhood, mom taught us, that god is everywhere you look. The flowers, the dewdrops at the tip of a leaf, within you, within me. Everywhere. Our innocence put our trust in it. We were in love with nature. Hence we still ran…

At a time, when everything in our life was going wrong, none of the puzzles were matching, we put our trust in the belief. We were in love with our instincts. The faith worked as a mental support, we had sowed decades ago. The innocence returned. Somehow we got the strength and we ran…

 

Nelson Mandela redefined racism, because he loved the godliness of mankind, of being purely a human. Not a penny more, not a penny less. Tagore, penned Gitanjali, and redefined literature, because he was in love with expressions of his inner self. Hitler redefined war, he was in love with his pride.

 

Forrest Gump chose to run… he was in love with life… and he ran, ran and ran…

 

He became a shadow of ours…!

I loved you, coz I thought you would love me back,

 

I made you the queen, coz I saw the sunshine through the crack.

 

Every rhyme I made, it rhymed with your name,

 

I never thought love would be such a waiting game.

 

Some things you say, still singes my heart, but it’s charred,

 

Every beat I composed, life accepted, but it made me a retard.

 

 

 

 

 

So many love songs, so many suns went down,

 

A flicker dumped in a heap of sorrow, still shone.

 

I heaped time on it, to burn it for good, crush it into oblivion,

 

Somebody said dreams die hard, they became a mere scion.

 

I thought I won’t look back, at my grey, red and the blue,

 

I tried to fly without wings, I failed and I never had a clue.

 

 

 

 

 

And here I stand, atop all my emotions, subdued, deferred,

 

So many dreams, so many tears, heartaches, they never concurred.

 

Now, I don’t want to traverse that distance again,

 

The path, trodden with thorns, is impossible to regain.

 

I tried not to give vengeance for your hard love,

 

But, this is way of war, isn’t it? A push, a shove!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A special something…

Some things that that made me; and things that didn’t

Abstracts which attracts me; tangibles that strangulate

When two halves doesn’t make one

When the waiting is in the eyes… and the sky in my hands

When music soothes my veins, and times when they burn

My world in black and white, and then the blurred colors

When the reflection is the opposite of me, imagination shifts

Light years into some place else

However, repetitions are never the same..!

 

 

 

A neverland of the horizon, the land meets the sky
The mind’s sublime haziness, the tears meet the rain;
I wish to walk in the rain!
I wish my tears are not seen!
The rollicking utopia, in my shadow, with layered hopes;
The third eye speaks; my instincts recede into oblivion;
I wish to hold my instincts back!
I wish my flamboyant shadow goes unheard!
A poet’s personification, a mirage called destiny;
The blurred conscience, biased thoughts, shadowed moral;
I wish to bury it in the sands of time!
I wish for time, to heal the shadow of a myth!
My shadow lives with me, tortured, and tormented to death;
With its shades of black and grey, I see no silver in it;
I wish to walk alone, bloody and subdued!
I wish for darkness, then my shadow won’t be seen!

They just want to reach out;

 

Fluttering and gasping; into the sky!

 

They need to stand tall; higher into the clouds.

 

But, do they know? That the clock’s ticking away?

 

 

 

Here I am! Standing loner!

 

I need to forget and forgive ma’ past.

 

A need so intense, that it evolves a different tune!

 

 

 

As the monsoon sweeps the city,

 

With my cold hibernating thoughts all alone;

 

The talking winds of the fiery monsoon chokes!

 

 

 

No. not a single star up there;

 

Even the moon has more spots than everyday,

 

The steamy wind; so strong that the crow “floats” but can’t fly!

 

 

 

It has been long that I left playing the paper boats;

 

Noah’s ark has left my hands, long back.

 

I wish I had put my childhood in it, so that I could catch sometime today!!

 

 

 

 

 

{Talking of childhood they are all the same, first or the second, desired or undesired}

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

The sun’s playing hide and seek all day long,

 

Seems like somebody’s toying with days and the nights;

 

It happened before, when I was a child, the days were bigger and the nights small!

 

 

 

My poems are all angry with me!

 

Coz, I told them, I need to forget my past;

 

I want them beside me, but they are all asleep;

 

They say: they won’t come until its night once again!!

 

 

 

I color my “dreams” and my “nights” both in black;

 

I wish somebody would give me a better choice, a better color, I love colors.

 

I don’t want to live my life in another woman’s night!!