I wish to hold you in solace

your body a cocoon

hidden from the pain of life.

And I won’t disturb you before

is time to slowly emerge

break free and fly,

the splendor of colors

reflected on your wings

my beautiful butterfly


“Sometimes to change a situation you are in requires you to take a giant leap. But, you won’t be able to fly unless you are willing to transform.”- 

― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun





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

Approaching Dusk



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-


“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

Dust to Dust


Dust to Dust


And I’ll be dust to dust bound

suppressed like a flash of light

quick but not too bright,

a distant memory turned to dreams

a vague recollection drowned

in the noise of your day-

So quick nothing turns to nothing

in a life full of extremes

that never last, never stay-

Particles of mixed sanity

that reality became,

a reality dust to dust bound

when forgotten lips

no longer speak my name-


Love, Love Not



Love, Love Not


What if I don’t choose to love again?

stacking memories of love with memories of loss

bittersweet cravings adrift in my distractions.

It is not that I lost my desires or attractions

nor the muse that inspires my pen

but my options run wild in this game

and sometimes it is easier alone-

Nature is long past, I’m already done

with my disillusion,

everything exhausted , nothing else to claim

if only a resolution

not to love again-


“We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely—at least, not all the time—but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don’t see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.”

― Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967





In autumn nights a chilling air now brings

a lacking left in summer heat,

the soothing waves that once caressed

my lonely skin became my lover,

the roaring sea that gave me wings

and made me dream of distant places

another time to rediscover-

And dreams alone will warm my bed

in colder nights that lay ahead

a life which time erases,

with kisses gone among the waves

in autumn nights I count the graves

while holding on to faces-


Love or Loss

life quote

Love or Loss

Is not love but loss that breaks a heart

the passing lives that leave their mark

the empty space in which we dwell

when castles built will break apart

and someone else will say farewell.


They leave behind from love a taste

when lives depart in such a haste

and keep us lost in empty rooms

we fill with ghosts later embraced

to walk alone among the tombs.


It’s what we lost that stains the soul

and does not fade when we get old

but sticks to skin so frail and scarred,

when love can make two parts a whole

 not love but loss will break a heart.







If I had you not, lost would be-

Roots left rotting in a liquid past

fed by fears, my beginning

touched by the same sea

my end will taste as fast

as the clock mark years.

If you were not, gone would be-

How far does not matter

if gone, where would I be

does not matter, if far,

heart of my heart

for thirsty lips water

you became, and you are.