The Lost Soul

As the moon with its lone star
stares at the lost soul
that stares at the endless
waters hoping to see
the horizon of his
path blended into the
darkness of the night sky,
Ships with their merry lights
laugh at his fate-
Ships that have bore
many like him afore

A group of five guys
stand at the water’s edge
mixing thoughts, drinking beer
One with a blue tee and
a blue jeans steps aside
As the love of his life
calls to hear
Another with red pants
throws the bottle into the sea,
laughs at how far he sent
it into oblivion,
oblivious of how far it
can send him into the same

A married couple walk by,
the man expressing his
deep thoughts as the
woman hears it all calmly
just as the sea that listens
to the wails of the poor soul.
Another one from the group-
the decent of them all-
judged by a longer short and a shorter hair-
stares at the waters,
thinking what he has done
Fails to see that his sin
is having not done a thing

The light shines from the hill
trying to show its way to
the lost soul that beholds all.
The waves rise as the moon does,
threatening to engulf the little boy
But shows that it is only
a matter of time
before it recedes into itself,
As he turns behind
waiting for his time to unwind


The People

What seems like an ocean
is nothing but a mere drop
What we all see is but a facade
hiding the beast that lurks within

The smiles – fake
The laughter – scornful
The face – an impostor
The love – a deceit

‘Cause inside we all grimace
what it outside seems a grin
As the masquerades covering our faces
conceal the loathe within
For all that we do is a sin
hidden in the din of the hymn
Hoping that our foolishness is washed away
behind the screens of the great pray

Our faith – a lie
Our trust – a joke
As false talks emerge
topped with junk and coke

But truth stands still as
men come and go
clutching the fakeness
lest they should forego
As with sloth they relish their body
with lie their soul


As the first day of spring sets in,
What is once lost, is reconciled
leaving the wintery gloom behind
as the new warmth of hope fills with boundless joy
the soul that is revived

Her words now seem mellow
As her thoughts fill his mind
The world which was gloomy and yellow
now turns as bright as white
’cause nothing can deter their bond,
No matter a fight

What was long expressed
now looks for acceptance,
as he waits with wide open eyes
to take in the moon light
For nature’s pace is what he adopts:
That of patience and perseverance

She carries with her the grace,
the grace with which the long grass dances
She walks with the lightness of wind,
the wind which makes his heart fly high

Her wish is his command,
as he thinks what to write
What might to her be an errand
is to him an opportunity to plight


The void that fills his heart
freezing it with the coldness of
indifference that distils from you

For weeks he has waited
Standing by the same old place
waiting for you
until his strength lasted
In his mind he screamed he thought
But the voice did not dare to emerge
For his pain being muffled by his love

Joy being wiped away slowly
as the life that is put to rest
as winter descends over the
green beautiful world making
the plants shrivel in its
icy lifelessness

What makes him think is
what makes you wonder
What makes him laugh aloud is
what makes your heart dance with joy
What makes him feel and respond is
what makes you you – You!

But as winter transcends,
the beaming smile that fills
life and joy now transforms
into a frown that drains his strength
The lifeless expression that
you hate to see in him
is nothing but the very reflection
of your own feelings,
once bright, once ecstatic – now coldly glaring

Those eyes that conveyed light
now take away the very thing
he owes his existence to
As life that wilts when the
sun takes its warmth away

He is a writer, yes,
and he writes of love, loss and life
but he sees nothing of that
but your reflection in the words that
flow out of the depths of his
heart that is bound to you!

Like the Wave

Weeks have passed by
and memories disappeared

as waves that turn to nothingness
when hit by the shore

The foam that arises as they die,
an all consuming pain that veils me

It was only like yesterday,
only a moment ago have I seen it

and lo, its gone
sinking into the shore sand,

into nothingness in this vast realm
of thought that kills me

as it brings the dead wave back again
as a maverick that engulfs the sands

But I still stand still as
I watch it emerge and collapse,

for now I know, that it conclusively
becomes one with the shore

just as my thoughts turn to
nothingness as they reach reality,

and now I know that its ought to be
and now you know what a wave can be.

La Douleur Exquise – A Lost Dedication

I’ve seen the sun rising, and I’ve seen it go down;

But your beautiful face hasn’t alighted upon my eyes yet.

The darkness overwhelming, I couldn’t bear to think not,

about the sleepless night that lay awake before me.

Beheld, I surely did, in my dreams many a nights back,

But to behold you, my dream, I could not yet.

The light has come, and passed away –

The light that shows my path to you.

Where can I now grope towards in the darkness?

But in my mind’s eye, I can see you, yes,

the same light shining brighter than ever, like a flame.

Like a flame being tried to be suppressed by the winds.

And you have come, like the sweet refreshing breeze of spring,

that thaws the cold frozen heart with hope and love.

but flew past, just as fast as I tried to breathe in.

And soon, another night will pass, as I stare

into the darkness, at your reflection in the open space.

In the moon, I see you, yes. But it is the sunshine

that makes me want to look into those depths.

Those depths where I see myself – Your eyes!

Hope drives me, the hope that the sun will rise again,

as it lights my path, showing you nearer,

an all encompassing light that fills

my heart with love and my soul with joy –

The light that fills me with you!

*La Douleur Exquise (French): The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have.

La douleur exquise gets at the emotional heartache, specifically, of being the one whose love is unreciprocated.

The Yearning

Oh! Lord, how I have tried to write my heart out,

pouring it out like a waterfall into an abyss,

out on the paper in ink,

and how I have failed

to make it seen,

that which is invisible,

that which I can only feel but not see,

and that which is not ought to be shown,

to them who seek to see

with privy eyes,

but to them who can see the soul of others,

just as they can feel their own.

That which I try to allude to,

that which has always eluded me,

that which others know only

through great works by great men,

but none knows, as none sees,

for they ween theirs to be it.

And nothing has changed,though;

And though nothing has changed,

everything that has seemed so hollow

has been filled again

by nothing more than its own vacancy,

For what is meant to be filled

never ought to be left hollow:

the Heart, lest of all things.

And then, time takes it forward,

as change takes it over,

and man with strangeness in his eyes,

looks at what is familiar,

that which is inevitable and immortal,

that which he thought was himself.