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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You may be.

How often do you think, there were someone to hold your hands?
Haven’t you thought their mere touch would heal you to new?
Have you had searched their face among the shining stars?
You may be.

When it rains, when the wind touches, when in the woods;
Or when the helium lamps glow somewhere in dark,
Have not you longed to be with them?
You may be.

How long would you wait? Should the seasons change?
Should the migratory birds cross back the seas?
Would you wait until your wait proves worthy?
You may be.

Is that day near? No prophets would ever answer.
If you want to know- seek.
Go out. Seek. Go on.
You may be!
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What have I written now?

What should I write?
Should I write about my pain,
When I’ve nothing else left in?
'hmm...' No, I won’t.
Why should my pain touch you – let it rest within me.
How do I become a person of no thoughts within no time?
Was I always been such?
How come I can be an empty bottle before half of me is filled?
Actually when my pain bleeds my pen oozes out,
But today it’s been frozen same as my thoughts.
Should I change my pen or myself?
What have I written now?
It may be - What I’ve not thought if I was not I’m now!
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Hope is the next shore.

For me,
Hope is the next shore.
I want to be there.
My dreams are again beyond...
But I’ve to be there,
There in the midst of hope and hope!
I’d be there; or I’d be drowned.
But there is only one thing I’m sure -
I’m not sailing back.
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Desires - a little steamy; a little unwavering.

At times my discreet inner desires conflicts with my modest desire to live.
Slightly fancier, a bit kinkier; it rests beside the gateway of my dreams,
from where my life is suppose to begin. I'm wedged in between.

I feel life a little controlled by me. Even if I believe I’ve the stern, my boat is steered and dragged away by the waves;
duly unknowing its path.

Tapping along the tides I go nowhere. I can’t understand why I can’t be me?

Why I’m always been like a grim-faced tart who split his ice lollies on the ground?
Why shouldn’t I be bold enough to control my wicked mind which is stealing away my grace?

Is a sitting lame duck is me? Sometimes I do feel the same.

How I could appease two desires at once? How would I know which one will eventually take me to the road I desire?
Is this tricky extended game itself is life? Is the same happening to all of us?

Desires - a little steamy; a little unwavering, propels our life. still we don't get almost half of the halves we desired?
yet we get something. And we live on.
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