Saturday, January 27, 2018


The universe has a well ordered system of distributing sorrows.
Your share will arrive at your door step at the designated time..a system of delivery which never misses an address.

The current dispatch for me arrived not very long ago
Somewhere between 5'8 and 5'9 with a small patch of hair above the chin.
Slippery terrain, mixed up moments
And losing your heart without ever intending to do so.

Ever since, it has been an unending flood.
The house, the street, the books, the mist, the parks
They all smell of salt.
All drenched and forlorn, I keep looking for an elusive dry corner.

All sorts of gods become stones which stay silent
Words of wise women, sisters..
They fall on deaf ears
Thousands of miles, hardest of journeys.
They lead to nowehere
As I come back to the same old sorrow.

Trying to unremember, backspace, cut off, begin afresh
Only to fall back into the salt of the flood again.
From here, sunny afternoons and dry corners look like fiction

But then, some one needs to tell me
"It is just a packet of sorrow from the universe"
Nothing can stop or end or shorten the pain it brings

But nothing, not even sorrow is forever.
The water will recede one day
And then from under a stone, new moments will arise
They will know how to bask in the glory of the sun

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