Eagles Don't Flock and Dragons Don't Cry

Who consoles a bruised Eagle? 

How does a Dragon grieve?

 

Endurance

Integrity

Confidence

Coordination

Trust

Ambition

Aspiration

Strength

 

यूँ तो होगा जोश-ए-जूनून कल फिर
पर ज़िन्दगी के इस अचम्भे पथ पर
आज भरोसा आधा है

होगी नयी एक सुबह कल फिर
पर इन कृत्रिम उजालों के बीच छुपा ये
आज अँधेरा ज़्यादा है 

Panthera Tardus

The way you open up
and are free when drunk
The heavy breaths you take
anxiously, but in control
The notoriety in your smile
with a steady stubbornness
That ambitious streak
Strong, almost cruel
The warmth in your eyes
Deceptive, mysterious
I like knowing you, you.

Sometimes I feel you
passing by, your odour
Or imagine you walking
ahead, just turning in time
to give that sleepy eyed smile
Wishing that in time
we share what
means something to us
Not just the usual, stereotypical,
hollow love, but
Raw, carefree, strong and passionate
Just like the first kiss...

Travelers in Time

A moment

Is all it'll need

To breakfree 

From these shackles

To let this river flow

Release the dams

That bind it

Leash it

Control it

A moment 

Of unfiltered 

Wholesome

Expression

Laying it all out

A tiny flicker of 

Lasting certainty

Among the many,

Fading,

In this stream

Of hundreds, millions

Will be the one

That'll matter

One in infinite

Encompassing

Eternity

That moment

Will be ours

You, me

Enough to last 

A lifetime

Before we part

A pathway

To another realm

a space beyond this world

Transcending the boundaries

Away from this hustle, tick tock

Not biding by the clock

A world

That resonates 

With the soul

Spiritual, emotional, intellectual

Beyond our

Read

A fleeting glance

Of truth

Will that be enough

To make that moment

The one?

Ignorance was bliss

Writing after a long time. All the confusion, the emotions, the inadequacy. Never knew loneliness had depths beyond comprehension. Heightened by a yearning that is never to be. Just when I was finding my ground, I realise I want to fly. Cannot now. This hollowness, a void that is hard to describe. And so writing I resort to... once again.

The plucked flower,

Fallen

On the soft brown earth,

Drying, dirty, grounded

But beautiful still

In its own way

Just there 

In its own ignorance

Fragrance fading

Wilting, half bloomed

Sometimes basking

In the sun, 

Smelling the damp earth

Happy to be on the side

Content, ignorant

but wishing sometimes

For nothing in particular

Oblivious to 

The life around

And just when

It thought it had

it all together,

It rained.

It saw how other flowers

Unplucked,

blossomed

Glowing, warm, bright

Full of life

In the drizzle

It saw in amazement

In awe

What could have been

If only it could 

Feel the rain again

The way they could

Not superficial water

Washing dirt away

But fulfilling

From within

Rain, gushing through

The veins and stem

Of its being

It realised

what it could mean

To flourish

To live

To grow

To feel

the droplets, the breeze

The earth

The sun

All would have a different 

Meaning

If only...

Now, it just sits there

On the sides

Slowly wilting

Yearning,

Wondering

Confused 

Wandering

Alone

A realisation,

It never seeked 

Or wanted

But

It knows now.

A realisation of

the true meaning of

Being

Incomplete.