I’m in the mood to post some old poems in the coming days. Here’s one I wrote in 2011.
Written on IV-VII-2011

Illusions crowd my eyes in unforgiving numbers.
Crows spot the greyness of the sky with black movements. The wind is music for the season.
I’m its only available audience. You slept with me in summer.
The bed sheet still crumples itself in accordance to your curves.
You are ethereal as fog over a city drowned in a morning.
I touch you falsely as I would touch a rainbow.

This poem is as random as your wants.
You remain unknown to my future, like a bird halting migration
you traverse
my diary and enter into me with a ghostly silence.
In the vanishing distance a church clots amidst leafless conifers.
Songbirds go mute in quiet hours. Lakes freeze and wolves call skywards.
I touch you falsely as I would touch steaming hot water.

Lanterns spark in the valley as the air gets blue.
You have gone beyond the boundaries you made for yourself,
like an echo conversing between mountains
I heard you for a while, then lost grasp of your presence.
I went towards the cliff this night. If I fall the night will catch me.
And throw me back into another morning.
There’s always another tomorrow after someone leaves.
And there are so many yesterdays to embrace in private.
You remain unsung like a forgotten lyric
And I touch you falsely
Like I touch myself in the mirror.
Featured photograph was made by me in Kashmir, 2013. 


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