The Essential Taj

  Dil ki khwaishien poori karne aayi thi Jiski aankhe ek pal mein aayna ban jaye Usse milne aayi thi. Nazare jhuki nahi Upar uthake aayi thi.   Apne paeron par khade hona seekh liya hai jo Wohi beti aur poti ban kar aayi hu. Aangan mein meethe phoolon ki mehak Lene aai hu, jo ma ke haatho se khile hai   Gulabi, neele aur narangi. Papa ki pustako Ki Khushboo, lekar jaaungi.   Apne sapno ki seema Paar karke, taufe lekar aayi thi. Yaadon se bhare khayal taufe banakar Le jaa rahi hu. Ab   Kisi ka darr nahi hai mujhmein, Taarein aur Chandni mein simat Kar jeena seekh liya hai. Phir bhi Humme Kabhi kabhi chubta hai magar   Ki jis dharti par paaon hai woh apni hee nahi. Baat jayaz hai ki ghar wahi hai Jahan dil aur halaat   Dono sahi ho. Agar Na ho halaat sahi toh Acche ache ko kahin aur ghar Basana padta hai.   Dil ki khwaishien poori karne aayi thi Aur pyaar bhari bahain lekar jaa ...

  Pale blue eyes    like a quiet lake on a cloudy morning   opaque and impenetrable    as it lacks depth. These eyes  are unlike yours,    who’s waters run as deep as the  North Sea    with its crashing white    waves on a stormy night.  Oh! How I’ve loved  and I’ve lived.  And lived and I’ve  loved. You  as a poet and writer,    a creator of symphonies in word.    Unlike very many others    who have powerful words  but weary eyes and hollow steps.    Their homes are not where their poems live    and their hearts are cold and steep,   their life a subversion of their real selves.  Yours are in spring, the steps    a rhythmic dance towards    your core self    unafraid as the lone warrior    at daybreak on the battlefield.  Your words, the sword   Your character, th...

When your heart is broken  and your soul is sore from bouts of fear bundled in disbelief do not close yourself like everyone else.  Instead, learn and then open again.  Always more loving.     

  Like glinting slivers of glass perfectly formed like Jesus on ice Utterly, heartbreakingly breathtakingly   magical. Whereupon, one touch my fingers are collateral.   The ice crystal ephemeral ethereal as cold as they are   beautiful. Be prepared to watch them all melt away slip between your frozen   fingers. As dead as they are They only leave you wanting more. Trigger   you to touch them.    

The sky blazes a soft pink My finger quivers underneath the leather gloves that are trying to protect me against the cold set in by solitude and the bitter taste of relationships that don’t last because geography intervenes. The evening turns orange, my mood tilts eventually and the finger ceases to quiver. What changed? People don’t stop caring because they disappeared. Object constancy must be developed. Unless people changed. Some don’t and others do.       

 Friend of cold glass,  people of empty                                   -ness locked and loaded.   friends of healing  orange peels and honey Indulgent  and disciplined.