?

Do you own the wind?
What speciality you boast to be not you?
Had your nerve dried up? Has it gone out of blood?
What better air do you breathe?
What better emotions do you feel?
If it is your arrogance to defy everything you dislike, I pity you.
Go wherever you want, go where your mind crave for,
go that extra mile where you would find new shining doors.
But when on a day, if you ever care to look back the road travelled,
you would perhaps see a few unfaded footprints with some names' inscribed.
Be prepared to hide your tears that day.
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Good morning!

On what basis we see dreams?
Is there anything logical in it or
is it illogical as we all are?
Isn't it a lucid uncertainty?

I do find it somewhat like being trapped in a dune,
overly blurred in its sandy whirlwind.
The staggering move we make to find the crossroads, become more hazardous.
We feel the heat of our blood inside our belly.

Sleeping, We all sleep inside our dreams!
But when we wake up, we rise to a greater reality of greeting another day,
whether we wish to make it as ours or not,liberated from a dream!
We see on more morning. Is it a Good morning?

live and find before next dream calls you to sleep.
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Blurry stare.

Thoughts being messed up in the mind made me unanswerable to any.
Do thoughts overblown make us haughty?
I feel like one among the wind blown dry leaves, in a gloomy dark alley.
Where to I’m being carried away?
Am I deprived my own existence?

Does the flying cluster of skylarks have their own existence they search?
A woman in dark blue cloak makes me run, run and make do more of it.
She is my desire.
She is not letting me to sleep, Even though I sleep opening my eyes.

The slipped away luck of mine stares at me helplessly.
The Luck is crying.
I’m sitting lame hoping in the hope.
I see a large plume of smoke slowly covering me.
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The Shape of sound.

She went away. She was a colour which I couldn’t name. All my imaginations of being in love suddenly came to its fall. I’d been transformed to an un-living soul who still continued to breathe. I began to see the day in shades of grey. Nothing moved. Everything has been frozen to no amiable reasons. I did change to a being of no emotions. I did start to love the night, for its sounds which were unfamiliar until.

I started to listen to tiniest of sounds which came from unknown directions. Every sound was loomed inside a dark veil unraveling its ethnic shape. “Shape of sound?” Do sounds have shape? “Yeah…, they have”. Have you been able to imagine the shape of small pebbles trembling on been heated above a large tin plate? What did you see (?)when you hear the crickets creek in the night? You’d be able to imagine a thousand different shapes if you start to imagine. No any different is I’m doing night after night.

When darkness spreads its magnificence, it's fiery large-sticky-scratchy wings; I go emotionless, a little less than an unmoving stoic. I lose myself in midway of my dreams, in which I see, I’m the King of little bees in thick tree who were storing honey, making small cubicles, politely adhering to the orders from their Queen. I stare to the Queen who has been severely harsh to her fellowmen, helpless to withstand my gaze spears she ignited herself to ash. I did see the shape of happiness in the cheer of freed honeybees fluttering around me .

One day I could also see the shape of moon’s sound. I was staring to the whimsical radiance; I did see a face inside (not the one you presume to be), I was clueless about who the stranger was. Swaying my visions through the fluttering leaves of cotton-bud tree, I fixed my gaze. I widened my eyes. From no where a dark cloud appeared, slowly it covered the beautiful face to which I was staring. I heard a loud thunder. It started to rain - a thick load for  few minutes! Soon the dampened leaves shone back to moons luminance. This day, for me,  the shape of moon’s sound was the thunder and its shape was rain. But where did the stranger go? Naïve!

Now I see the shape of my breath which lets me know that I’m no longer alone. What could be its shape? It’s none other than my shadow, the very me; even though I’m not able to see it at night. But I’m happy for it, the sounds and its different shapes. I’m living; I’m discovering the amorous relationship which I’ve been married to, the imagination to see the shape of sounds. Let me live for it until I fall to a new obsession, a little shapeless!
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Cleopatras’.

Whom did Cleopatra love? Was she sincere to Julius Caesar or to Marc Anthony? Even Cleopatra hadn’t had a clear answer. Is every woman turning to a D-day Cleopatra?

At the end of every joke shared, moments cherished and the last minute ice-cream scoops together; finally Why do every women fall to the Royal lineage of Cleopatra. Why do they follow the inspiring heredity that Cleopatra had left behind?

They've been in the even process to be in the Cleo’s shining cloak. They are faithful in being so. What else should they be doing? Knowingly or unknowingly every feminine cats finally smoothens their paws to jump the next the door.

I’ve been in touch with a group of such; ‘Cleopatras’’, who swing to and forth to the side they feel more comfortable to be comfy. Once I wondered “How can they do it?” Now I sigh in relief – “Who else can do it?”
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A Sky to look upon!

Winds weren’t lazy,
So were the kites;
Clouds were dark,
Came down the rain,
The sky got changed,
A new painting was born.

Winds were chilly, but it was mild. When it touched my face directly, the only thing I could do was to close my eyes, and feel its brilliance in budding goose-pimples in me – the slenderest kiss of the wind. Shouldn’t you too experience the wind? These are little big things we shouldn’t afford to miss.

The sky was patterned with clouds which seemed as cotton balls exploded a moment before. At the terrace I sat staring into the sky. I don’t know, I get happiness when looking plainly into the sky. I believe, it’s the expanse where a painting is born every second by mere change of winds or flick of a bird’s wings.

A gaze into the sky - Isn’t it all we need to be amiable with our woes? At times it is all we needed: a sky to look upon!
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I’m wind, sea, desire and my self!

I’d love to come out from the wind to be the wind.
I’d love to be the sea of multiple hopes…
I’d like to be a star, a fireball of desires – a burning Illumination.
I’d love to win back my conscience by evolving back to self - Can I ?
I’ll travel the road made for me by me, even if I didn’t reach anywhere I desire; I’d be proud that I've built a road.
I'd be happy as for I was the wind, the sea, my desire and remained my self!
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