A recent comment made me realize that it'd been a long time since I posted, and the truth is that life is preoccupying...thats the exact word for it. You get entangled in the subtle web of hope and self-satisfaction, rummaging for the future in a maze of insecurities and a barrelful of lessons. Given the lack of occasion and the unsystematic unloading of opinion, I thought I'd let myself go this one time in an attempt to trade prose for rhyme...I leave the interpretation for this one upto you...
I rest like an autumn leaf in rain,
prematurely seasoned but not washed away.
The thrushes pumping in a single vein,
I may miss that last flight, that last ray.
Its the best laid plans for the ordinary,
with just the whiff of caviar and sherry.
If you've seen a thousand birds fly by,
you'll know that insight is true.
And although most times we sigh,
sometimes life smells like a fresh brew.
Morphine after a rough night,
Or a shoulder and a bed in sight.
Things change in the singular of time,
universes multiply to chase chaos.
And just when things seem unfine,
distances numb the sense of loss.
Big words from a heart of stone,
substitute the self scrutiny of the alone.
I've seen the sunsets of heaven,
and survived some years of insane.
There's a lot of black in happiness,
and a lot of white in pain.
Its all a matter of color and intellect,
of seeing a rainbow, of living a reject.
So every time the sky changes hue,
know that the winds will blow and whine.
Its the artifacts of nature that do,
and the relics of you that shine.
I rest like an autumn leaf in rain,
prematurely seasoned but not washed away.
The thrushes pumping in a single vein,
I may miss that last flight, that last ray.
Its the best laid plans for the ordinary,
with just the whiff of caviar and sherry.
If you've seen a thousand birds fly by,
you'll know that insight is true.
And although most times we sigh,
sometimes life smells like a fresh brew.
Morphine after a rough night,
Or a shoulder and a bed in sight.
Things change in the singular of time,
universes multiply to chase chaos.
And just when things seem unfine,
distances numb the sense of loss.
Big words from a heart of stone,
substitute the self scrutiny of the alone.
I've seen the sunsets of heaven,
and survived some years of insane.
There's a lot of black in happiness,
and a lot of white in pain.
Its all a matter of color and intellect,
of seeing a rainbow, of living a reject.
So every time the sky changes hue,
know that the winds will blow and whine.
Its the artifacts of nature that do,
and the relics of you that shine.
