Careless whisper of the drizzling drops,
Enormous greens bustling with crops,
Wild stares of the winged with a twist,
Magic in the ways and rules of the mist,
Out there, all belong to the creator.
Old leaves in the wind of old cheers,
The chaotic order of smiles and tears,
Shadows of feelings and their carriers,
Even the shapes of the broken barriers.
Out there, all belong to the dreamer.
Image by A Hopeless Anachronism
One night went off in endless words,
Keeping wide awake two young birds,
Unknown feelings hugged them tight,
Open eyes welcomed the guiding light,
Past storms seemed like breezing by,
As both deemed those worthy of a try,
New prologue written for a new story,
Newer versions brought newer glory,
So hope sailed for an island farther,
Silver queen leading the path to harbour,
The branches failed to check the reach,
Little twinkles made it large in each.
One day of wandering among the old,
Drove some forgotten tales to unfold,
Standing tall with that glazing grace,
History chanted about the ancient ace,
Unknown chills ran fast down the spine,
Witnessing all colours of the then divine,
One of them was a believer by heart,
While the other played an atheist part,
Yet both remained humbled by one sight-
Where ‘god-particle’ was enamelled bright.
Celebrating a mark had never been jollier,
Dug up memoirs kept filling their collier.
One evening had brought them closer,
One dawn dreamed of a bird younger,
One dusk was about lending wings,
One morning built the house of strings,
One noon tweeted all the good times,
Some short and some so long rhymes,
Looking back at the river of moments,
Which rewinds back to playful events,
Feathered heart wants to pause and play,
See each other all chirpy and gay,
Hoping the stream will reflect the past,
Out there in the coming days to last.
Alas, this mirror does not give back,
What has been taken, as though black.
Image by Ulrike Leone
If only I were what they say as careful,
If only it was my heart that would rule,
If only there would have been no brain,
If only you were the one I wanted to gain,
If only I could somehow change my way,
Would it be easier to accept, you say?
If only I would make less fun of you,
If only I could make my eyes cry too,
If only I were a bit more trustworthy,
If only there was no sense of jeopardy,
If only sometimes I could see through,
Would I be much more wanted for you?
If only some part of me could shout out,
If only I could know what this’ all about,
If only I were some little bit more caring,
If only I would follow the steps of sharing,
If only I could see what you want to see,
Would my life have come back to me?
Image by Gerd Altmann
I look back at the days
Of greens and greys,
When we had our ways
Through life, that is a maze.
And I wonder sometimes,
How to ring the old wind chimes.
I laugh and I smile
By the window and the aisle,
Nights were wet for a while,
Words on top of another pile.
And I wonder sometimes,
How to ring the old wind chimes.
The colours of the beady eyes
Drew new paintings over the skies,
Some joke or two, some advice,
All of them were fun in disguise,
Always up for a surprise
Knowing the unpleasant may arise,
Never cared for petty sighs,
The thrill was the only prize.
I see faces glowing yellow
With each stroke of the willow,
I hear the empty roads bellow,
With my head on a pillow.
And I wonder sometimes,
How to ring the old wind chimes.
Image by Real Men Shoot RAW
Sometimes I wonder if Nature is like the partner we all search in all kinds of relationship in our lives.
Nature has no expectation of us. Nature doesn’t claim rights on us. Nature creates a scope of betterment for our kind. Nature always strives towards supplying valuable resources for our survival.
Maybe we can learn the ONLY message it’s trying to convey to us.
Maybe we can stop LOOKING FOR pros. Maybe we can start BEING the pro in all of our relationships.
