Drenched !



What is looked at,

is what seen,

the vision of your love,

the depth of your soul,

while traversing through thick and thin

along with me.


The gestures you put forth,

the actions you coursed,

spoke for itself;

Silently, yet loud enough,

to surrender,

every inch of my heart, in your name.


Distancing from superficiality,

diving into divinity,

soulful, peaceful and pious,

is love,

is what I found,

being loved by you.





Photo by Mike Kenneally on Unsplash








My lonely hand,

found a companion,

when you held it,

the first time.

Since then,

It sends quiver of love,

down my spine,

every single time,

I’m graced by your touch.



Here and beyond !

I don't carefor what is therein this life or beyond,I'm content, always.In your presenceare spent my days,and nights.And when you are not,the thought of you,keeps me alive, and sane.As in life, in death tooLay.jpg

I don’t care

for what is there,

in this life or beyond,

I’m content, always.

In your presence,

are spent my days,

and nights.

And when you are not,

the thought of you,

keeps me alive, and sane.

As in life, in death too,

Lay by my side,

honouring me to wake, and

sleep next to you.

Always, till my breathes complete.



A symphony!


Pain is symphonyplayed in the darkest of hoursin your heartsilently.refusing to show,its real face in crowdsIt knows, they won't understand,and what remains ununderstood,remains unacceptedthat leaves the heart.jpg

Pain is symphony

played in the darkest of hours

in your heart


refusing to show,

its real face in crowds

It knows, they won’t understand,

and what remains misunderstood,

remains unaccepted

that leaves the heart vulnerable,

at their mercy

And that, is the horrifying reality.



My own!

I am not a broken heart. I am not a sad prose,I am not a delicate rose,I am not the finished letters that remained unsent. I am not the way I leave.I am not needed to be handled.and I definitely am nobody's fa.jpg


I am not a broken heart. 

I am not a sad prose,

I am not a delicate rose,

I am not the finished letters that remained unsent.

I am not the way I leave.

I am not needed to be handled.

and I definitely am nobody’s fault.

I’m raw, fearless to express what’s in my heart

I’m my own existence,

I’m my own magic,

I’m my own choices,

I’m my own saviour.



A liberating experience



Liberating it is,

to let go of the expectations

accepting the life in its pure form

believing in its transient nature

separating the observation from preconception

knowing that destiny exists, it acts,

but only when you do;

its just a secondary character in your story.

Welcoming spontaneity along with planning,

cause flexibility is the truest sign of wisdom.

Embracing the pain of leaving a place, where your work is done

and looking ahead to the new places where you have to be.

Taking the lessons learnt from a previous journey,

and entering a new one, for many more to be added.

Accepting who you are,

taking the responsibility of your actions,

And just keep moving,

one step a day, one moment at a time.

And that, in truest sense is liberation. Isn’t it?