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Blank Canvas
Layered in colors, dark and mystic Who does this canvas belong to? They say it’s me.. But I didn’t connect to it The fragility of colors, the images forbidden, the blur of stories unfinished Where did these come from? Not sure this is the way I would do it now When did I start seeing…
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Experience
What is it to have loved if there is no story to share No memories, no reminiscences of tears, joy, moments, all blended together in one brilliant canvas What is love, if it was perfect, unflawed, unblemished What is love if not always changing shape and shade, sometimes unhurried and sometimes breathless What is it…
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Sadhana
So how do I close that which is closed… Finish that which is over? Is truly moving on even a thing? Is it the same as moving on with wounds that heal to leave scars? Is it to love the scars as much as the rest of me? Do I even love the rest of…
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Impermanence
This heaviness… It bears down on me On my hsoulders Pressing aginst my chest Struggle to take in a lungful of air Each moment passes by slowly In the slowest of slow motion Forcing me to live in excruciating detail. The worst storm has blown over Stand among the ruins Lost, shaken, disoriented Not knowing…
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Embrace
He who wished to drown in the embrace of the ocean Sat so long making boats, out on shore Bharat Thakur
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Script
To burn…. can it be a path To burn in silence.. A deep acceptance of the rise, the fall and the ultimate rise Can I stay in stillness…through it all A witness to a story unfolding Waiting patiently for the final end glory.. Freedom from it all.. Only achieved from embracing the free fall Through…
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A million shards..
Again I find myself at that point The point I have visited several times before Where I break up into a millions shards of glass Nowhere to go, nowhere to run.. A pile of shining dust Pick it all up and start again Put it all together in a new way.. A way that takes…
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Watching
Discomfort…it creeps up Heaviness sets in, tightness, pain… First the gut, then the head, then the neck and shoulders.. Why do these oarty along with the mind? The mind has no business beyond being a monkey Intelligence tries to raise its head and take over.. Rationality makes a weak attempt.. Intellect….I cannot seem to reach…
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Seperation
The agony of seperation Disentangled when not ready At birth, the agony of seperation.. At death, the agony of seperation.. And a million times in between.. Ironically, an inability to seperate from that which hurts
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Time
I have been told that its all about time The end of a relationship…give it time.. Kids growing up..give it time.. Everything…all in good time How much time? The space between two breaths, the space between two sunsets, the space between death and birth, or perhaps… the space between denial and acceptance? Does time just…
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Wonder
Rare, those who give their art a home in their heart On lone nights all alone, they set out on a journey of wonder Bharat Thakur
Featured book
The Book of Mirdad, by Mikhail Naimy