Sometimes it slips away,
grasping tight a dizzying spiraling
of days, wasted time-
Inside its comforting,
seems forever unchanged
but the carcass was arranged
in such a way to mimic life,
smile, find cadence and rhyme
while the spiraling goes on,
grasping tight
sometimes it slips away-

What Matters


Does it matter

 how the journey begins?

Nor the end it’s important

but what falls in between,

what I love, what I cherish,

all I hold in my hands

and the adventures

I find every day,

my desires and my wants,

what it’s gone

and what stayed.

It does matter

when my life almost done

I find truth in my fears.

But I try to live well

and not look at the years

but to love

and to cherish

all I hold in my hands,

every day at a time

make it worth,

make it mine!


Silence of a Lonesome Life



Silence of a Lonesome Life



can you hear the silence of a lonesome life?

It sounds like the wind howling in the storm

through the open window emptiness adorn

all the dusty spaces where memories subside-

It sounds like water rushing through the streams

in the enchanted forest of my past gone dreams.

Can you hear the silence as I drift away?

It sounds like a whisper in the dead of night

ghosts pacing the halls of my empty house-



can you hear the silence of a lonesome life?

It sounds like the wind singing to the moon

through the open window everything complete

all the spaces filled with memories alive-

It sounds like water playing in the streams

in the enchanted forest of my present dreams.

Can you hear the silence as I find my way?

It sounds like god’s whisper in the quiet night

ghost dancing the halls of my love filled house-


“To an optimist loneliness is freedom, to all others it is prison.”

― Amit Kalantri





My hope becomes old and it wrinkles and falls

to the ground beneath you-

Such a lonesome existence

to be found,

to be drowned

in a need that it grew

from a smile so much carelessly tossed,

as if knew

hope turns old with the distance

and it wrinkles and falls.


“Hold fast to dreams,

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird,

That cannot fly.”

― Langston Hughes






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.


“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

Without Sound


Without Sound


Lost in my own silence time passes slow

my voice within repeats the same, strange

how language is pointless and yet

I choose one, to speak words without sound.

I am most naked alone and quiet I found

stripped of looks and gestures I flow

in between the seconds of the clock

as it marks the days’ time, strange

how time matters and yet

I choose to let it go,

lost in the words without sound-


“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
― Jalaluddin Rumi





At the end of the day

it is me who’s alone

like some birds which stay north

while the flock heads way south

I’m alone in this house

and remain just unknown

or at least feels that way-

And well know that I’m free

to decide who to see

or to choose from all none

when it’s me who’s alone

at the end of the day-



“If we are alone, we become more alone. Life is strange” ― Paulo Coelho

Left behind


Left Behind


When left behind, I learned the subtle hush

that comes with being alone,

the silent voice inside my head-

And then I learned a lacking known

to those who tasted life’s sweet rush,

the flavors found in passing love

that left a trail of pain instead

when left me alone thereof-


When left behind, I learned how time

would play the clocks,

it marked its days across my face

while waiting here if someone knocks

I turn my words into these rhymes

and play the songs my soul defined,

alone to quietly retrace

the love that passed, when left behind.