One of the early poems that I had written. I don't know why I put the title the way it ended up being written and what was in the mind when one was writing and what starts as something will never end as the same thing. It always waits to transform itself and with a lot of water flowing down the river, one wants to hold on and pause for a moment and look back for what it was when it began and was it worth afterall. It is not an exercise in self-judgement or self-criticism because every work in itself is that act of criticism of itself, of emerging through different dilemmas in one's own mind and differen revisions and conceptualisations but yet some of the writing resist being re-written and revised and are written at one go.....they might not express the beauty of words, nor the beauty of expressions but sometimes just a beauty of spontaneity...to qualify it from a sign post in time, to look back one just wants to be with it and in that being tries to be with the time itself..it neither arises out of nostalgia, nor out of a revival of memory but out of pure forgetfullness of chancing around something which was deemed to be lost or repressed some where deep within and failed to be acknowledged in the certain circumstance.
I know you are a mirage, a mirage of senses worth exploring
I know I live in dreams, but dreams of eternity they are
You are the dream of the summer, where the yawn of the day meets the sleep of the night
You are the tranquil reflection of the moon
The still calmness of water, the movement of the stream
The silent cacophony of the night
The perennial spring of eternal hope, where in the valley of flowers arises the aroma of life
Where the snow-capped mountains reflects the beauty of the soul
Where the desirous destination is not the journey, but the journey is itself a destination
Love flourishes in the hope of hope, in the timeless journey of the selves
Transcending the destinies of mind, I keep to thee, revel in thee, imagine in thee and trace myself
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