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My sky in September

That small restless kiddo!
Overheard, shouted "Just nine"
Waited for the months to end
Till August things were fine.

It didn't bother him till eight,
September was his favorite...
The ninth month on calendar
Waited forever to savor it!

He was waiting, he is still...but
The wait became too long,
He waited, danced on one leg,
Sobbed, singing his favorite song!

The last date was the best,
He thought! Moulding the clay,
The form he made, of a face...
Much like a mask, it'd stay!

He painted few drops, with blue
A little real, a little messed up.
Blue being the fear, he trembled
Dropped the paint, it no more resembled!

What was in front, still blurred his eyes
He thought he'll manage the mistake,
He was sure he'll twist the story,
Mould it in his creative wake!

He took the brush, made it all blue,
Dropped the initial plan, thought,
"Blue is the new you!"
Still, with the heart he fought.

Heart wanted few little drops,
But what he got was more than his share,
He doesn't know how to keep it...
Moments like these are utter rare!

He wanted to smile for his cohorts,
People who found solace in him.
Although that mask he wore is blue,
The sky is full of stars soo dim!


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A Story

The time thus stopped, still
Between then and the now,
Then was forever beautiful
Now is undulating but infernal.

Forever is hence a myth,
Tied between the bygone
And the moments yet to come
Stuck, unmoving and dead.

The rise of an era, indeed
Was not a beginning either,
It was called upon by turmoil
And the sacrifices of all.

Them all, gave up all they could
Left behind what they had,
They managed to flee, evacuate
But couldn't untie the chain.

The chain that was tied
So fast around their souls,
Choked, breathless, unmoved.
They cried, longed, lamented.

The emotions they were bound to
Took a toll on them once again,
The empire did rise again,
Them, all, remained the same!


A little boy sitting alone
I saw him from distant far
He was almost on my own
I wondered who left him distant far?
He was crying I could make out
Wiping his tears he walked straight
In the middle of the road, I wanted to shout
Lost and weird on the way that was laid.
Hey stop! I shouted thrice
'Don't walk in the middle of the road'
I was chanting the sane advice
He ignored and walked as if releasing some load...
I ran and reached him somehow
I finally brought him to the stopping mode
I looked in his eyes and I saw pain
I could sense as his soul began to corrode
He was a little boy and I hope he is fine
He was a little boy I wish I could understand
He was a little boy and he is somewhere
He was a little boy on the distant land!


Well, that ache in the center that apparently has no definite cause or maybe the reasons are too insignificant to be named the ultimate thing; there’s a root cause. It’s mere mind’s play, to decide, to let go and definitely to keep holding on…forever? Maybe, if it existed.
But that ache that is indifferent, an ache that feels new every-time, an ache that we’ve befriended like no other, an ache that is acknowledged and welcomed with smile driven tears, an ache that is nostalgic of moments that were mere memoirs of the bygone days, an ache that we never saw coming, an ache that was an escape once from the reality we never faced, an ache which has now become a necessity, an ache that is a part of you?

An ache,,, A beautiful one!