On Time

"Oh why did time have to fly so"

One of the first things you wrote to me. And I said I am glad it flies and flies backward too. Felt lighter by many years and experiences when I first met you.

How quickly time crept up on us though? 

There is no time to make any time. There is no flight in any second. Of the burdens of any relationship, is the emotional as heavy as the physical? If, so this time, time doesn't fly because it is weighted down. 

Come lets fly again. You, me, time and timelessness. You, me and a lightness of spirit.

The Affair That Never Was

I wonder if you saw through my
scholarship, humor, pursuit of zest
Could you glimpse the emptiness that
stared me cold in the eye?

That once when you held my hand,
were you trying to dispel
the doom of empty promises
which haunt me in daylight?

Or were you too, like me,
cognizant of nothing but
that electrifying touch?
immobilized by desire
and sheer abandon?

Who passed you that secret
message to arrive into my life?
Did my words invite you?
Or were you, like me,
lost to the mundane;
in search of light,
lightness and lust?

Whispering my name,
You led me into your
multi-fabric tapestry of
dreams, words, why,
an entire world;
outside this universe.

I once came knocking when you slept
And looked through your window.

That zesty, sparkling world that
you made for us,
if I had stepped into it,
would it have become mine?

But my worlds fall apart.
Completely and utterly.
I do not want to enter your world,
my strangest, strongest, love.

I wish for it to remain the star
that lights my path at night and dictate my fate.
The star that I hope to be the dust of.
One day, when this affair that never was,
ends.

Yaad Bhari Tanhaayi

"Ek purana mausam lauta, yaad bhari tanhaayi bhi"

The beginning of a new year is always about fresh hopes, resolutions and new dreams. Of late, age has caught up though and all hopes are tinged with a longing for a golden past that almost certainly wasn't golden. 

5th of January 2016. Like any number of Tuesday mornings is a little groggy, fearful of insufficiency of time, regretful of not having little hands hug me before I leave, forgetful of the many chores that were left  in the laziness of a cover block Monday. But it is a new year. The calender has certainly turned. 

Closing my eyes however, enveloped me in that memory ridden loneliness. Those glorious sunrises to watch which you woke me up stealthily and I slipped out all decked out in my night clothes. All the repercussions of such an impractical act forgotten in the sheer thrill of having a chance to cross those lines, abandon rules and embrace the moment.

I wish I could bring back a little of that abandon back into my life. To what do I owe these grey clouds of ennui?