A Town of Memories: Meet only to part

A Town of Memories: Meet only to part: Imagine a universe where the full moon never called out to the tides; or where the gentle breeze didn't kiss your skin on long ne...

Meet only to part

Imagine a universe
where the full moon
never called out
to the tides;
or where the gentle breeze
didn't kiss your skin
on long neon rides.

Imagine a universe
where the waves never embraced
the sand on the shore;
or no flying embers
of a cozy bonfire
as you listen to ancient folklore.

Imagine a universe
where the clouds never
sent down rain;
or the comfort of
a wound healing
after scars, scabs and pain.

Imagine a universe
where the trees never shed
themselves in autumn;
or no beautiful rainbows
created out of the fusing
rain and summer sun.

Imagine a universe
where the moon never
awakened in drowsy daylight;
or where you didn't
have to hold on to the string
to fly your kite.

Imagine a universe
where the graphite of your pencil
never touched the paper;
or the brief connect of
two mountain ranges
where the sides taper.

So many things
in this world
meet only to part,
and there is beauty
in the separation -
in the chaos, there is art.

We only have what we have -
why get into the nitty-gritties;
you and I are atomically relevant
in such bigger infinities.

Coming undone - again

What we have

what we want

what we can have

and what we wish to have

are four continents separated

by endless oceans of

murky decisions,

ruthless situations,

foggy vision

and repeated fission.

Whether you listen to

the heart or the head,

you can feel the beats ebbing,

the texts unread,

so many stories unsaid,

and you return every night

to restless sleep on a cold bed.

The cracks peep again

only the light that was awaited

never found its way in.

The cold rain fills the gap,

the chill hitting you crisp like a slap.

The conscience blames, the guilt melts

but pain, my friend, demands to be felt.

I stand at the bend of the road

getting drenched in the showers 

I let on upon myself.

I pull the sleeves right up to the fingertips

stare at the shore and the disappearing ships

I pull myself closer and breathe into my fists

and welcome the downpour, the chill and the mist.

I'll be okay but at the moment

it's all a little insane because

I am coming undone - again.

 

When people tell you to "Move On"

There are two words
that are heard more than courtesy calls;
words that are meant to deep
but rarely do they seep
beyond the skin
because they're hollow,
they're shallow
and no amount of intensity
can make you act upon it.

How can you act upon it
when every little thing,
sight or sound
takes you all the way round -
back to where it started,
back to where you parted.
How can you?

You get used to the pain,
the emptiness inside,
the rawness that pricks
every now and then
reminding you
yet again..
of everything you so wish to forget.

Pints of forgetfulness don't help,
they only give you a lasting ache
throbbing at the back of your mind,
in the center of your chest
of the mess inside your head -
all that is waste.

Then one day, someone walks in
through the doors
and you see light
after too many dark nights.
It could be the sunshine
you were craving all this while,
or it could only be a flashlight
breathing until the batteries run out.

People will keep asking you to move on
even after you have moved on.
They will point out your flaws,
voice your insecurities
and shove you down.
They will shake you and break you.
But if you listen to me,
Take the chance, call out to the light-man.