Turbulence of minds, Oceans of peace, I get dissolved in them, To dissolve them in my ink, And paint the poetry I have lived.

The unpublished drafts are more soothing than the ones shared. For all they contain, the words never disclosed to anyone hide the closest secrets, the frequencies of your beautiful imaginations, the ones which are only yours.

Somewhere far among the mystic mountains, On a solitary foggy Winter night, I heard someone calling my name, The voice echoed asking me to wake up, I pursued a journey to find myself, That the voice was none other than my own.

Yellowed pages burnt to ashes, Old dreams released to cosmos, Journeys leading to vast unknown, How liberating it is to be blank every time, Only hearts poured into diaries know.

त्याग, लोभ, विषाद, प्रेम, क्रोध, मुक्ति, प्रतिकार, आशा, मिथ्या, संतति, विद्रोह, समर्पण, द्वेष, विश्वास, अकर्मण्यता, कर्तव्यपरायणता, निश्चय--- इतना कुछ तो है हर जीवन में आरम्भ से, और आप सोचते हैं संसार का अस्तित्व किसी और में समाया है।

My breath--incomplete--seems to recognize your scent which still lingers in the mist here. You are in my memories like the fog--unclear--yet neither present nor absent.

The truth is no matter how much people alter their 3 PM images, you will always be haunted by their 3 AM versions-- bare and raw-- to believe they are still existent.

Of questions, answers and musings, Of unseen places, people and traces, I travel henceforth with existences I know not about, Perhaps I exist in other parallel universes too.