Path
March 2002
.
From where we come, we go back
But where do we go in the middle?
We follow a path,
A path that is not there.
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Existence
From December 2007
I think that wasting time is criminal. Somehow, there has to be a purpose to everything. And when there is none, I feel like I don’t deserve to exist.
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My Window
From November 29th, 2007
Windows can be seen as our outlooks to the world. There are times when one’s window shrinks to the size of a peephole, moments of fear or hatred.
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Idealism knocked down
From November 2007
Channel the feelings into art and in that preoccupation, the feelings are absorbed more easily; like a flood, which suddenly found the porous route to the storm drains.
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Anger
First published in August 2008
Anger.
Like a vengeful human on a leash
If you were to be freed
What damage, what destruction…
What chaos.
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Reflection
First published on October 2007
I look for my reflection
I love my reflection.
It isn’t me but my only companion
Through life.
And sometimes it is me.
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This Pebble
First published on 24th October, 2006
This Pebble;
Pure while at heart but
a tinge of brown outside.
Smooth, but for a few cracks
through which the blankness
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Missing Mountains
First published in September 2007
.
This prison. Walls. No trees.
No where to hide
To be alone or cry.
No one to understand the lover’s yearning for the mountains
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City
Written in December 2006
.
There is no wholesome plant here
There is no learning
No passion.
Being with the dead kills me.
.
There aren’t enough trees
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Silver Haired Goddess
(Written about my grandmother October 2006)
The sun lights up her silver hair
She walks gracefully past in her fresh light sari.
She’s a goddess from above.
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