A Masterpiece

Sitting besides the blue-ish river of Atlanta,
Staring, the filled sky with grains,
Glittering in the nights.
He beseeches for a masterpiece.

A thought, that can change,
his life, before, it ends.

Carving, through the muds of soil,
he began his journey of life.

Some emotions, like an ocean,
with devotion, and his imagination,
created some wonderful creations.

Dolls, to play with,
Sculptures, to decor with,
Utensils, to cook and eat with.
Love and emotions put into it,
to live with.

Paving ways to the thirst of his creativity,
to accomplish, its starvation,
to achieve its thoughts, of giving life,
life to the cluster of soil and water.

Now scattered, within itself,
asks for relief, in search of something,
a masterpiece,
to mark his name,
in the history of this world.

Never found, was a masterpiece.
Found, was never a masterpiece.
Life squanders, to a limitless,
infinite, search for the pearls.

Never seen but catching,
Attentions of all, calling,
hidden inside,
deep and within,
the structured, boundaries of flesh,
Craving, is a masterpiece.

The tryst of Love

inside the heart,
asking for help,
stayed in him,
the desires,
the hopes,
a thought,
a thought of coincident.

Vast in the woods,
star crossed,
in the thought of,
of being complete,
in the darkest hours,
the hours of dark thoughts,
her life echoing,
to wait,
till the end,
an end,
till their tryst.

A walk of images,
paving ways,
roads to both,
roads of possibilities,
a life,
beyond their capabilities,
a life,
there always was.

Changing winds,
going through,
with them,
asked them,
asked to follow.

As they followed,
to the unknown,
against their will,
the destiny,
to meet,
to meet at their tryst.

at a dingle,
the flowers,
the wind,
never felt before,
the eyes,
went an espy,
an espy,
of each other,
as a stranger,
so much familiar,
with faded,
outline in memories.

Time urged,
to know,
and to understand,
just don’t let go,
and begin,
what was never started?

the destiny of yours,
stick together,
and never ever,
be apart,
your trust,
tryst of love,
to a never ending,
a never-ending-end.


She dies, to grope the time,
for her beauty and infatuated life.
She wants back, her little lilies,
Petrichor, her small legs, and the buzzing noises,
of flies and butterflies, the chirping birds,
and the howling lives.

she sits on her chair, for a couple of hours,
an old flesh, with dusky clothes,
a state of seclusion, rolling tears,
rubbing her eyes, being oblivion,
and never realized this sonderous life.

This epiphany of life, glimpses of past,
fills her heart, with laugh and regrets,
the lost age and squandered life.

Some people can’t see some people

Some people can’t see through fog,
Some people can’t see the fog.

Some people can’t see the love,
Some lovers can’t see some people.

Some people can’t see the nature,
Some nature can’t see the humans.

Some people can’t see the friendship,
Some friends can’t see some people.

Some people can’t walk in the rain,
Some people can’t see the rain.

Some people can’t see the pain,
Some pain can’t leave some people.

Some lives can’t see some lives,
Some lives can’t see some lives.