there are birds that do not fly

thieves that do not steal

liars that preach truth

believers that do not kneel

there are songs that carry no words

no music, no beats and no rhythm

songs that carry silence

taking a knee equivalent to violence

oppressors masquerading as victims

priests that commit sin

there are a million women with million incidents

unheard, untold and unseen

of abusers among us moving around, partying, grinning and winning

there are politicians that are too insecure of their competency

so they use money and power to keep those that are better than them below them

there are gangsters that do not grin

there are murderers that move slow

beggars that flaunt luxury

a woman’s smile that holds a mystery

this life is a sworn secrecy

a pact, a treaty, an agreement

to not tell the whole story and keep the reality away from ears

and maybe we will forget about each other after a few years

we are breathing in on our fears

drinking our tears

suffocating on the smoke of the reality

smoking away our lives

one drag at a time

feigning that we will be fine

committing crimes, attempting rhymes,

waiting for the sunshine.

on a voyage where the tides rise high

where we fly away like kites

where the horizon seems distant but is there for sure

where we take each other home

and there is no point in making them understand

as long as the one i see in the mirror

understands who i am

i am me, i am free, i am whole.

the rider in the night, the magic in the soul.

for whom the bell tolls?

it tolls for us.

there is no such thing as enough

it is a bitter sweet symphony

we are standing on the precipice of infinity

looking down at the opportunities

and now, i take the leap.

the leap of faith, unscarred, unscratched, detached

the only monk that was attached

attached to love, thoughts and songs

keeping in his satchel memories of smiles and laughter

now, departing, going home.

for there is no one left here to sing to me now

no one here to see now

the sun is going down

and i am again journey bound

leaving without a sound

a smoke on a cloud

a silence that i hope is loud

an known yet unknown shroud.

“main sabke kaam aaya par na koi mere kaam aye”

-therapy, 3:00 am, again.

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