Words

Those many words that migrate back to my reality everyday,
The words that dilute those experiences,

The words that dissect a flower into more words,
A few petals, a stem, a pinch of fragrance,
The sharp thorns, the leaves and may be a botanical name.

No, not those, still not yet! but, those words don't give up,
I want to explain how wonderful those moments were,

Come back with me to my past say the words,
See how good I was, see how good the day was,

Realize that I was there, and that you are with me now,
Realize my importance, recognize my thoughts,
well, not all thoughts, just those which I want you to,

What happened to the reality?
Did I distort it?
Did I dirty the serenity of my experience?
All, just to relive my moment in your thoughts.

Was it all worthwhile?
Where am I now?
Am I in my past or in your thoughts?
Am I in my imagination or my imagination of your thoughts?

Well, may be I am just in those words,
Those words that are making rounds in my mind,
Coming back to my reality,
Dissecting and diluting my experience,
Right now!

Just another ego?

An ego bent on changing the world,
Cant change the course at its own home.
Striving towards improbability
that is camouflaged as impossibility,
an unknown hope drives it through
the marsh of seldom treaded territory,

The bending will, the hurt ego,
wilting under their own expectations,
seem to be dissolving the identity,
reforming and realigning every new intention
towards newer improbabilities,
To wage a war against the world,
just to change a course at its own home.

Unbridled

A knocking on the door, the ringing of the phone
A calling of the guru from the crowd in the street,
A deja vu of sorts occur again,
on every pattern of returning symbols

Opportunity strikes again! Opportunism reckons again,
Uneasiness of nerves, skipped beats of the heart,
Recursive thoughts and unknown hang-ups,

A scare of stagnant times, A fear of passing time,
and yet a recognition of irrelevance of time,
all put a case for reenacting the old reality again.

Gasping for the breath, my mind waits,
for the uncertainty to return,
for the normalcy to be restored.

Control is the last thing the soul desires for now.
To flow in thy will, to cog in thy wheel,
All that it longs for, is being your servant for eternity,
seeing and being thee, for the ever passing 'Now'.