What I Was Not
I kept thinking, thinking, thinking
That I would say this, think that
I kept thinking the livelong day
But hesitating, I kept living somewhere else
Not even in slumber
Did it come to me unbeknownst
What I was not.
***
Days
Yet another day has passed by
But I don’t think about the arrears of days anymore
I don’t save for tomorrow and thereafter either
Another day has passed
But this time I am there
With the luxury of time in my hands.
A language with merely ten alphabets
Will that be able to contain the vastness of creation?
The days write furtive meanings on the eyes
That remain closed to the horizons of meaning
In those letters,
Erase, and then forget.
***
Also Read: Pedong: Poetry Nestled in Himalayas
I Look for Questions, Not Answers
Casually, in the midst of a conversation,
You say something important
One moment in the afternoon
Truth always arrives clad in surprise
I don’t have an answer
I look for questions
Not within myself
I search for you.
***
What was Old is New
So new was it in a way
That it always sold elsewhere
Among hordes of buyers in splendid shops
Invisible to a few searching eyes
When light gleams on this object
In a particular way
In attractive prices and affordable installments
With promises of free delivery in tow
With the glow of bumper sales
It will sell soon
It is sold
What was old is new
Or is it just me who arrived late with list of promises
Absent again to purchase,
The time that I once sold.
Image Courtesy: Istock
