Travelled
miles and miles away to travel millenia and millenia back
Life
flourished amidst harsh desert waves
Now
the salt reflects the old images,
Sometimes
one's own image.. a hazy one
Ruins
to remind the future is not too far away
Colours
of Indigo, precision of hand, patience of an ascetic
An
art which tears the eyes and tears the pocket
Swinging
to and fro... some in shops and some in thoughts
Beauty
to the eyes and bajra to the stomachs
The
utsav became a reason to reveal the vaastav
The
sun had set
Cold
winds and heavy hearts
Every
rose has it's thorn...........
Rare
rogan, jingle bells, wood, leather and colour
All
too good to witness from the outside
Stinks
with disparity at a closer look
Some
perfume their ego in the name of philanthropy
A
deserted city amidst the desert
A
wall to climb
Only
to feel a blip in the vastness of space and time
Rationalizations
for consolations
Brownian
motion on the streets... Not entirely random though
Patterns
emerge from apparently chaotic movements
A
candle flame among the population of moths
Low
tides and heavy souls
Parallel
tracks, parallel berths, train of thoughts and emotions
Hearts
beeping fast and rough
Not
asking where will it lead to
Because it is the journey that counts.......
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