Back ache

When everything is beautiful, my back aches. Left over nuances collect themselves in a corner trying to leave me alone with my happiness. This affects me in a different way.

Rain pours

thunders wait

noises run

and I alone get drenched

I have been trying to talk sense since a few days and all I am speaking is of wet and soggy feelings which nobody can be interested in.

Wheels churn

paths become older

we ponder

we never unite, we can never unite

If I sit in the corner of an old street

I count windows

I look into people's lives

I never reach a conclusion

then I look into my life and find it no more amusing than any. Red bricks falling off an inconclusive building. Red bricks ready to be taken by someone else for their dream. You don't need to be young to be dreamy, you just need to be ready.

Then she ran crazily towards the winds,

with the enthusiasm of a fool,

the sky stood silent in anticipation,

the sky said nothing when she reached.

Shringi

25 August 2011

The book and I

It was an hour and more past midnight and I was reading my book. I was weaving myself with all that was written, and all that I was reading was passing through me. I was in a tiny world which was full of the characters I was reading of and some of me in each of them, men, women and children.

Then, I looked at this from the outside. I saw a girl/ a woman with a book half read in her hand. She was sitting with her legs pulled close to her chest in a dim lit - light yellow room, very big for her. The floor was of white marble. She looked distant, pretty, aloof, content and very tiny. I moved further outside and lost her somewhere on my way.

From outside the words of the book were nothing but some filling of a decorative in my hand, from close by it was a world of which I was but a visitor, an engrossed visitor.

Shringi

26 August 2011

reading To the Lighthouse