Flux

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Flux

~

But I do hide from the pulse

of a constant stream of life

too much to bear at times I pull away

the skin to shed and leave behind

to darkest places I find

such comfort in the dark-

And when the moon is bright

the force of fools and crazy

will tear my mind apart

to seek among the meek

the softness of a touch,

the gentle music sway

I find inside a heart

that pulls me right away

to places full of light.

-H.O-


“Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your own presence rather than of the absence of others. Because solitude is an achievement”. Alice Koller

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Approaching Dusk

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Approaching Dusk

~

I fear the approaching dusk

stretched to fill the empty holes

my life will pass like summer rain,

and won’t be here

to dry your tears and sooth your pain,

to hold you dear

until the memories subside-

And things I asked about my soul

eternal life reserved for all,

to cross the light,

I just don’t know-

I fear my dusk approaching fast

eternal night

as cold as winter fallen snow,

and only you to hold me here-

H.O

“When he died, I went about like a ragged crow telling strangers, “My father died, my father died.” My indiscretion embarrassed me, but I could not help it. Without my father on his Delhi rooftop, why was I here? Without him there, why should I go back? Without that ache between us, what was I made of?”

― Kiran Desai

Confluence

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Confluence

~

I ambled along the edge of my days

Patience is a virtue they say if you know how to wait

but my life written past compromising my fate

burning light in a waste of a daze

served a master in memories graze.

~

But so hard to let go of the passing of life

Time’s a cruel thief they say but none has been taken

when I gave it away or it was most forsaken

clenching strong to the edge of a knife

thus neglecting to keep ‘self alive.

~

And what I seek if a master of winds

Life to be lived not controlled they say but I yank

and I push while I gulped and I drank

dragging stories behind with a glimpse

of my life just one set of footprints.

~

So I drift on these places that passed

Renew, release and let go they say while you can

does not matter where all things began

while I question how long all will last

living life between present and past-

H.O

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

― Søren Kierkegaard

Aftertaste

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Aftertaste

~

There is something left in broken fragments

on the tongue within the sweetness a sour taste

lingering amid residual flavors-

A puzzle’s piece lost in the shuffling and haste

of drunken early mornings and late nights

when gulping every bit like sweetest wine.

But how thirsty I remained after all

was consumed, waking up all alone

from a fuddled life as I stumble and fall,

and then shattered I’m left with the aftertaste

of the broken fragments-

H.O

My Eyes

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My Eyes

~

“They are sad”- my mother said about my eyes

then kissed them both with tender care

and told me “life is never sadness”

but later found that in her kindness

she failed to see how through my years

from all the pain could not be spared.

~

“They are naughty” – my lover said about my eyes

and kissed them both lost in desire

then told me “life is full of pleasure

with every moment to hold and treasure”

 cradling my body between her thighs

my lover taught me about lust and fire.

~

“They are fierce” – my friend said about my eyes

and touched them softly with great affection

then told me “life is there for taking

if you are a winner into the making”

but later found that makes no sense

when life is nothing without direction.

~

“They are old” – I told myself about my eyes

the mirror spoke of passing times

my mother’s words of love and sadness

a distant memory lost in the madness

of every day, and all I see with these old eyes

are long gone dreams within the rhymes-

H.O