WANDERINGS OF A NOMAD

The shadows hide in the night, Fleeing, escaping, running from sight. In darkness they feel solitude, Taking our pains with gratitude. Alone they sob, alone they weep, Our sorrow is what they want to keep. They are afraid, scared of light, Cause it holds them, it keeps them tight. Binding them, holding their flight, And that give them a fright. Curbing their independence, keeping them slaves, Life, independence is what the light takes. Our silent friend that is what they yearn to be, But also deep inside they yearn to be free. Shadows - a portrait of self so mute, so dumb, Slowly they kill themselves, slowly become numb. Wish I didn't hold them; I could let them escape, They would be completely free to take any shape. The tears flowing, heart throbbing with all its might, The shadows hide in the night...................................

“Well i want to write about you, how your smile means the world to me. How i fell in love with you, how you've hurt me and made me cry and how in an instant you've made everything perfect. You know on the shores of life people walk and leave their imprints and then waves come and with time those imprints get merged back into shores of life. But for me you are the wave. The one thing that shall always make other impressions disappear and stay with me all my life coming constantly with grace and peace. The nature fascinates me- a walk in the rain, a stroll in the wind that just brushes your face and makes you feel rejuvenated, a walk along a lake- so peaceful, so quiet, moonlight shimmering on  a silent river making a path on the river and inviting anyone and everyone to come. But you fascinate me more. I've always wanted memories with you and all I have are images.- Images to live by, Images to keep. Images till I die, Making me laugh and wee

The sun rose in the east Brightly glowed the heavenly beast The parched earth was searching for rain Dry dusty earth searching in vain Thirsty, Oh God this morbid thirst Oh please rain let the wet clouds burst And so she hung to the slender eternal rope What wise men over the ages have called hope. My son's gone away to fight a war To a distant land, unknown and far My only child oh God please.....please Begging, pleading I am on my knees Every second with bated breath I wait For my son to enter, walking through the gate. And so she hung to the slender eternal rope What wise men over the ages have called hope. And now even God was in tears Man had fuelled his greatest fears And shamelessly man used God's name To make other play his selfish game He held back he really tried But we all knew when God cried And so we hung to the slender eternal rope What wise men over the ages have called hope.

I am a random piece of paper, flying with the wind, fluttering at times like butterfly and at times gliding like a bird. Sometimes I am lonely and at times I am buzzing with emotions, and friends. I learnt to make friends, to listen and to understand them- the wayward plastic, the concrete roads, the uneven broken down paths, the enigmatic cotton seeds. The leaves are my closest friends; the dried ones they fly with me soar with me give me company most of the times.  Sometimes things seem like a dream and at times a nightmare wakes me up from idyllic slumber. Peace comes to me at the strangest of places, but mostly it comes to me when I look inside myself. I have been greased and crumpled, stamped upon and put in the gutter. I have been written upon and I have been used as a packing material. Life goes on and so do I losing myself in pieces slowly with passing time.  Sometimes I wonder which part of mine will survive, the one that keeps the life as other parts break away. Onc