Picture-Perfect

5th May, '09

Limbs ache with no change,
the mind is frozen with expectation,
days roll into one another,
a warm blanket of submission.
Jagged scars find a way to heal,
Far-fetched dreams crawl out of the door,
the paintbrush slips, our fates are sealed,
this painting will never be perfect again.

Crossing Over

30th April, '09

I lie at the bottom,
of a sparkling stream,
the sunlight streaking upto me.
Pebbles lay smooth,
like mounds of butter,
layered with golden honey.
Hyacinths floating above my face,
stop to touch and tickle my nose,
the water gurgling at the surface,
peeps at me while it flows.
Driftwood pillows my heavy head,
its branches gently rocking me,
I lay there calm and peaceful now,
a picture of serenity.
Fishes swim into my palms,
between my fingers, through my hair,
nibbling at my throat and arms,
welcoming me into their lair.
I lie under the gurgling stream,
looking up at the trees and the skies,
the clouds are lolling,
the rain comes falling,
but I just lie on by.

This's where I'll lie,
until they come,
the ones from yonder above,
I hear they're crying,
pained and glum,
morose at their lost love.
But I'm in no hurry,
to leave so soon,
this watery new home of mine,
I feel no ties, no bonds, no pain,
or even the passage of time.
A lifetime spent in an absurd search,
lying at the bottom,
of a gurgling stream,
Sometimes, death is sweeter,
than is thought,
and life more futile than it may seem.