"A secret is not something unrevealed, but something told privately, in a whisper." -Marcel Pagnol

Whispered secrets are hidden here,
Kept safe from curious stares.
The mind knows its way.
Thoughts are shaped like clay.


Whispered secrets are hidden here,
With utmost love and care.
Funny how the treasures are lost in the labyrinth of the mind.
Though most may be forgotten ,some one may find.

Whispered secrets are hidden here,
Away from harm's way, safe from wear and tear.

“A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” - Oscar Wilde

Reality seems harsh to me,I seek refuge in dreams,
Where I can change things at my whims.
Where fancies take strange shapes,
I can taste sweet escape.
Where colours blend into music and I hear melody.
No touch of reality can mar this ecstasy.
Yet dreams are transient beings,they disappear at the break of day.
No matter how much I wish,it fades away.
Woken up to another day,going through the same dull routine.
Memories of the last vivid dream,somehow wiped clean.

"This fugitive memory I'd would so like to capture,is dwindled..."

Days flow into nights,nights into day,in a rush,
Words into memories,a whisper,all hush.
Essence of a moment,a faint fragrance,somehow faded.
All seem forgotten,as a new day is awaited.
Is it a need for survival which makes us forget the past?
Through all the sweet and bitter memories that last.
Yesterday makes today and the day after,
Made of joy,tears and laughter.
Which makes what,smug in the knowledge of being better?
Is it the word or the letter? 

“Throughout the centuries there were men who took first steps down new roads armed with nothing but their own vision” -Ayan Rand

What does it mean to be brave?
To go through the day, keeping your ideal safe?
There are too many doubts, so many obstacles to stop you on your way,
Is it brave then to mean what you say?
People say horizon is an imaginary line receeding as you approach it,
Is it brave to follow your distant dream no matter what hurdle you meet?
Maybe, it is a complete misconception,
Its not really being brave but foolish, as people mention.
What does one get by resisting the flow,
Keeping one's head high and ideals higher even after dealt with every crushing blow...
It's safer to be like clay, to be moulded as they may...
Only if you can keep your thoughts and questions at bay.
When question arises one can not be neither complacent and ignore,
It grows at your mind, unless you're not too sure.
You can not possibly follow the general course, it does not make sense anymore.
You're ready to be burnt, beaten and broken,
To rest your mind, to face the doubts so rudely awakened.
Thus we came back to the actual question,
Is it brave to be different?

Life is a Journey

I stand listening to the sound of the sea on the shore,
I feel stirrings deep in my being, an excitement that fills me to the core;
I feel the need, the thirst to know,
Questions that haunt me cloud my vision and yet they show…
A long winding path that lies before me,
Beckoning me, tugging at my soul, there are more things than my eyes can see…
I must make my way alone, arming myself with love and faith,
Even though I feel hopeless and scared with every passing breath.
I need to walk down the road,
To find my way or to be lost again.

Today

Today, in the late afternoon, as I gazed outside,

I was struck by the crisp blue sky,

Streaked with pure white clouds, so endless and wide...

Then I wondered how most of my thoughts begin with a why!

I try to find meaning in every event, every day,

Yet some things just happen, without rhyme or reason,

There’s something called chance, which would always find a way...

The sky would change with every passing season!

Here I am, trying again to sort out things,

To bring order out of chaos, when I could just sing...

With all the joy and faith in my heart,

There’s a method to this madness, should have known from the start!

A walk in the rain

A walk in the rain...
drops of water on my face...
to find the strength to love again,
to find the faith to lift myself from disgrace...
I hear the sound of thunder
I can't help but wonder
life is all about finding happiness in small things,
little things which thrill you to the core...
give your fancies wings,
you couldn't ask for anything more,
fire flies lighting up the dark corners of the night,
sunlight streaming through the trees, so clean and bright...
ah! I forgot the most cherished sight
a rainbow, so crisp and clear...
a blue sky tainted with a coloured smear...
and yet I would still consider the old black magic called love
to be beyond any beautiful creation sent from above!

Coffee and Cigarettes

Coffee and cigarettes
they are a constant friend,
A smoke screen, defense
means to an end.


Smoke rises from the burning end
intricate patterns in the air,
Young people with glazed looks
found every where.


The pace of life is
Fast yet slow,
Things move in a
Constant flow.


Each days is different
and same,
Every moment, the same.
Old game.


It all comes down to this
place, the coffee-house,
People gather to seek refuge
from playing cat and mouse.


Through the smoke, the constant
chatter, a sense of isolation prevails,
Take a sip, taken in some smoke, an escape 
when all fails.


Coffee and cigarettes
they are constant friend.