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My first book written whole heartedly,wish to publish someday.Plz stop by $ have a read. |
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The book is made up of some scattered memories, scarcity of words due to which much more could not be described. with a very bold image settling deep down inside me with alacrity but inability to draw. I pass everyday through the same roads driven by same pair of legs, thinking some broken pieces of thoughts which used to come but were never absolute, containing a lot of pain inside them; like a thousand mindfulness of thoughts lost and wandering merged in my path and those would keep asking "where should i go? please tell me." They'd always leave some of their's part in me. I could never fully understand them, i just tried to describe them with my weak and helpless words. |
 My mind yells, "she's gone The futile hope is blown 't was stormy day with the forecast; that spring say... Go on, oh pedestrian! Unburden me Dwellers question 'who is he?' "However" the heart rebels, "Wait for her, won't you? To You and she-the destiny ties, wait for her; let the trinkets blow but careful, do not miss her footfalls or she'll be gone, Again."  |
Through the last night walk in the valley, The dim road lights - They focus on my face to notice my last expression, The teddy in the nearby doll shop hung its head as if it's angry with me. The bunch of roses in flower shop miss me with its fragrance. The mass noises that the valley makes every night is still unknown to me. My unspoken voices are still lost in them; never dominant. People are still making fun; eating, sleeping, walking Beside - on the same road as they always do, I am doing the last talk with every objects of the valley that i ever became acquainted with; I didn't tell them ; Else they won't let me go. There's very few left to talk with them. Perhaps I am the last one. But I am obliged to go. For I am the traveler, I am not meant to stay. |
| I am left with nothing but memories, Wings grew to my words they flew away; all the words that i ever spoke. |
Sometimes i happens to sit in the ground , and the moon locates itself in the sky. More radiant and more clear than it used to be, or at least i thought it to be. As if upon someone's request. |
| Again with my earphone, drinking lyrics of the music, transfiguring the world as per the rhythm, extracting the tones; from the laughter of the baby with his sister, from the almost rotten grapes of vendor, I extract the tones from the torn clothes by it's every threads -of the beggar. I look ,as i walk, at the strangers, smiles at them: They all are the ones, once i knew in another world. I walk, i leave my parts, my memories, though my scent sticks to the the things nearby, through my foot steps remembered by the earth. And I return to the the place , I once sat with my closest one, reminding myself all the memories shared through the same vocal, And I keep it a secret, hide them under the stones, beside the walls. |
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