Almost....

                                  

                                            you and i 

                                       don't and won't 

                                          and can't

                                    and so one knows

                                yes, it was meant to be...

                                       meant to be 

                                         this way

     

                               if it was meant to be 

                                    any other way

                                 it would have been 

                                        or will be

                                          what is 

                                           is how 

                                   it was meant to be

A stitch in time saves nine!

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” – Khalil Gibran

Oft one hears...."Just throw it away, it's broken" 

Aaaah! yes, but I never could, doubt I'll learn to, well, doesn't seem likely anytime soon...just love it too much: fixing broken stuff. As a youngster, it was the TDK tapes with my favourite songs that used to get stuck in the tape recorder (gunjal ho jaati thee) and I just couldn't throw them and lose all those songs, ouch!! Nevaaaah! And so I diligently fixed them with cello tape. And voila! the music, it played again, minus a couple of lines and a distinct sound when the cellotaped portion ran over the tape reader.....My stuff, yes, I like fixing it, it gives me memories and with it, a history. 

Rain....

 

you ask

why it is i come back?

what i would love to know

when it was i ever left

or can i even?

did you?'

can you?'

oh! my darling 

the earth it needs rain...

The lift off...

                                                    

                                                     

 You can actually hear the shattering

I never ever knew!!

well i'll be darned!

well, I'll be darned
being irresponsible enough
wasting the poetry that emanates from some deep recesses in my soul
whence our souls should brush past each other
on some highway
you and I were meant 
to be...
say I not
it's the conversations of the souls
I am the medium that feels these conversations...

...When I'm home...

                                              The Kiss by Rodin.

The Kiss by Rodin is on display at the Musée Rodin in Paris. There are also two replicas. One is on display at the Tate Gallery in London and the other at the NY Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen.

The accidental flick of the hand against the quivering stomach

yes, 

almost missable...

the rush of emotion that engulfs

the constant sharp desire 

to have your head where your hand just brushed past

love is not so much in the realm of the obvious

but in the strength of the knowing

in the awareness

in the urge to give and receive, 

oh! so strong...

a chaotic yet soothing 

the sense of homecoming.....