Ordinary Universe

​Her mind is
Nothing but a wonderful blessing
Always yearning
Always growing

And here I am
But a blunt feather
Blown away by her endless wind
I float along the hush of her whisper
Of how grand of an angel she is
Eternally too big
And too much
To fit in
Our ordinary universe.


Scribbles in Sheets

​Scribbles in sheets-

Hues differ from another-

Faces of their kind

Vulnerably carved.

Scribbles in sheets-

Covered in dust, may be,

Rather dull of nostalgia

To no degree.

Scribbles in sheets-

Apart from flesh and blood-

Are what keeps us all



Doesn’t matter

How we try and hide

A piece of our puzzle.

One way or another

Upon the casting light

Its shadow will reveal

What remains in the riddle

We refused to hear.


A Woman is not episodal—
a thirty-minute watch,
She does not come in a flash,
She is a whole—
the sequel to bestseller
the author to author

A Woman is neither a day
nor a night,
that wakes and sleeps
along the sun and stars,
She is an endless tale—
one to behold a lifetime

She is the classic—
living in Beethoven’s music,
She is the fire—
the only one I see in your eye

And as long as She lives—
I’d never die.