In your words I find so(u)lace

Trying we both are, in our own separate ways.

The moments sometimes freeze, but mostly it sways.

We both are a little afraid of what we would see.

And, we both keep our love, locked in different bays.* 

Hello you there,

How has the writing been doing? Any thoughts on penning down what you already have in your mind? I thought a little coaxing will help you write, sigh, what was I thinking? You continue to be a lazy snail and I race along the waves, attempting to occasionally sit by the shore and listen to the music of the waves. I’ll take back the word ‘lazy’ because I know the thoughts are going in your pensieve. I wait for the day they get woven into your yarn of words.

So lost in the world of words

My green tea sat there waiting

And a sip of bitter tea

Brought the memories

Of how someone saved me from choking

There are times when I’m quiet and silent and I can feel you, your silent presence is enough for my soul to find its link to its soul-ace. As I write, I wonder, why do we need words to define all our experiences? Will the experience not cease to exist and be the moment we start to define it? It shall morph into a memory. Won’t it? Then what shall be of the experience? It’s like killing it with words just when it takes birth. A rather tragic analogy, never thought I will be thinking of words in such terms! Tell me, if I do not speak, how thou shall understand the feelings deeply felt, the rise and the fall of the thought-provoking waves amidst the gleaming light bestowed upon by the might moon?

The names imprinted in the sand

By my feet, not my hand

Waiting to slip by, with the waves

When it’s in the heart, why need the land?

Your old posts are a treasure of gold for me. Every time they read again, a new feeling rises. At times it’s helps me reminisce the feeling I felt when I first read it. Your words aren’t banal, they are melodies written on piece of instrument which plays ‘the moment’s music’, uplifting spirits and words, themselves, to skies that don’t exist. That’s how I feel when I read Pablo Neruda, Kahlil Gibran and Rumi.

You would be surprised to know that even as I keep coaxing you to write, my own habit finds a rare place in this schedule of mine. Yet, here I’m, writing unlike you, literally in every word!

Thank them who taught us

To read and to write

Thank stars who showed us

The one path, amidst many blinds

For if it were not for words

What else would it be?

The locked door at this end

Finally did find its key!

*these lines have been written by my fellow blogger friend Kunal, the link of his post has been shared there and here. The post has been inspired by his beautifully written words:)