But I saw in my dreams

Had'nt the clock, yet struck 12,
before your thoughts were already ringing,
but as a cute gesture at the time of the bell,
your exclusive birthday wish was already singing.

Had'nt the clock, yet struck 12,
and dont ask me, how much was I excited,
I surely would have, If I could tell,
how this time was being delighted.
At 11, the cold wind was shaking me over,
like tickles of your fingers on my skin,
so that sleep came slower,
but I tell you, night and my dreams were already kin.

I saw you there,
standing on the pedestal of my imagery,
and riding on the back of my metaphors,
as in simile compared you to treasury,
I was already occupied in your gaze,
dreams in dreams and deeper I slept,
that I never returned from the maze.

Just on that 1 second difference on which the crystals stood,
I waited and waited like ages inside that one moment,
that anytime now, you would,
spring the jasmine flowers in the air,
and release the words coated with honey.

Just on that 1 second difference on which the crystals stood,
I foolishly dragged cloth from beneath them,
I wanted and had to wish you for first,
But I saw you in my dream which kept me aside from realm.

The Late Nighters

its late, says the clock, but this conversation, i dont wanna block,
see the time runs tick tock tick tock tick tock,
i feel very sleepy while i talk,
but u wont let me stop,
i see the stars watching us from up there, somewhere
i feel they too might wonder,
what makes us up so late wen the world is in deep slumber,
we talk about things that fascinate us,
we talk about moments that anticipate us,
when we think we have talked it all,
one thing or other comes out of the sprawl,
i have lived my life for many reasons of which one is u,
this dark night knows everything,
it is aware of the fact that my words are true,
my eyelids are heavy with the growing night,
but what i hear from u makes me feel light,
what are the things that are left,
is it about the thief or is it about the theft,
the thief has played smart,
kept on talking and didnt let me say,
the theif quitely entered and took my heart back on its way.

The Use of Being Kind

What is the use of being kind?
I used to ask to my mind.
are these busy people worthy enough?
they dont even notice you.
I am not a hollow man,
that everyone just hurries through!

That they have self motive towering over their humanity, values,
how are they living with such an insensitivity?
that being a human, a human's plea doesn't affect them,
I ask my mind repeatedly.
Cruel have they become,
these bodies driven by greed,
with blurred eyes they see,
the cost awaiting to be paid heed.

The hurry to save time,
pushing along the queue,
jumping over the spine,
chaos in my view,
upto where my gaze lasts,
I see no sign, no clue,
gone are the days of past,
of saner people, now very few.

"Situations!"
I hear from within.
A deep observation reveals an even deeper fact,
that by fate and fellowmen, these people lead here,
where simple humane values, most of us lack.
That this insanity is not natural,
but borrowed from devil,
cause when it became hard to eat wood,
It was easy to cut it.
That dont mistake my rue as my basic instinct,
that I too falter to see people die,
but my faith has been darkened by griefs,
but to live, to survive, I have adopted weepless cry.

Then I try to drink my anger and wait until its all drank,
to think with all my heart about them, who have sank,
below their levels of tollerance and rationalism,
while fighting and loosing their morals to devil,
they dont react much, they are blank.

To these who deserve some love, some care,
thirsty at the brink of mercy,
I try to be kind and to be fair,
by being kind to the ill fated and showing some courtesy.
That its not a question of use anymore,
kindness at hand is sanity for a man,
that I choose to fight the devils at the door.

Misery and Merry

How miserable,
people go to sleep,
longing for simple things,
only their dreams can afford.
how miserably,
they compromise,
their broken dreams for bread and butter.
Why are they drowning,
inside this pool of self pitty,
that when they see merry,
they cant hold back the frowning.

Misery lives strong in my people,
shadowing their lives,
they curse their luck,
and surrender before this curse,
that no good can do away their worse.
They are not loosers,
though they cannot win,
they limit themselves to subsistence,
most necessary now, for existence.

Then when I ask them,
what causes you misery,
they show me from curtains,
the merry of insane people,
who parasite on them for sanity,
who taste the brightest light,
who rule here now,
who laugh at their plight.
They the majority of this world,
dawn heavy on my people,
who still struggle to live,
as sane humans.

Sail or Dive

An ocean is our mind,
of indefinite depth,
rough, erotic and random at the surface,
whereas calm and organised in the deep.

You can choose where to be,
either in the hands of waves,
splashing, active and free,
or take a deep dive into its calmness,
moan, still, behome darkness.

But, you always taste the tides to your will,
whereas, going deep down there is a no-return voyage.

But do choose to be keep alive,
either sail freely or once-forever dive.

A little lamp lit

deep down there
a little lamp lit,
a dim light,
a faint existence
but still it killed
the big dark night
clouded with silence.
No wonder I saw it
before loosing every spark,
to this gloom, so stark.
Deep down there
a little lamp lit,
the final signal before defeat,
and the last of hope,
but not the least,
though.
And the little lamp kept
its light alive until dawn,
when the little lamp slept,
the Sun slowly began to yawn.

Thanks little lamp,
for that much light,
that before you perished,
I was able to live through the gloomy night.

Three of them

Once before sleeping, herself,
she never forgot to check the rest of my mind,
that even after harsh words to her,
the boy has relaxed or not, his tongue so unkind.
what shall I conclude as,
of her unbiased service to me,
is it her very mighty love,
or a very mighty will to live most dutifully.
She has given everything ever expected from her,
and has never the glitch of my wrongdoings,
subdue her faith, love and blessing to go unprospered,
in my life.
Such is my mother.

Even if one has numerous friends,
one may lack in fulfilling one's heart,
with utter tenderness and warmth,
that a little girl of ten embarks.
None the less irritable a company,
she holds her world to her will,
but would pat your shoulder and inquire,
if your eyes, a tear would ever spill.
She has her wise approach not only to her doll house,
where she drafts her plans of her teens,
but to provide resolute, to the biggest issues,
she becomes inherently keen,
and its her confidence that confides sanity in me,
that what she suggested, the greatest truth has been.
Such is my sister.

Then people who only not are called family,
but have equal saying and equal rights,
one such was she, who closed childhood with me,
who accepted me even after several fights.
She like never exited my head,
had a home in there,
she occupied my heart as well as she occupied my mind,
a thought touched by her was hard to spare.
She had a found an easy fit into my life,
had booked the rarest of the rare a seat,
one half of myself I show everyone,
other half she bestows, to call it complete.
Such was my friend.