You and Me

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Left in the abyss, parched on the top

You and me, me and you

I find in you, what you find in you

I find in me, what no one does

You see in colors what i seek in colors

I seek in me what no one does

You hear in the storm, the beauty of the wrath, i

hear in the storm the wrath of the beauty

I hear in me, what no one does

You seek in you, the inner you

I seek in you, you

I seek in me, what no one does

You seek in me, so you find in me

So you hear in me, so you see in me

Naught else but You

The People of the Strange Town

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You the people, of the strange town,

who bring strange tidings!

You the people, of the unknown time.

You, the people who are not connected

You, the people of the strange town.

You, the people, in flames.

You, the people.

I do not belong.

Neither do you.

I do not surpass.

Neither do you.

I do not transcend

Neither do you.

I do not fly.

Neither do you.

I do not feel.

You…neither do you

I do not belong.

Yet you do.

I stand, while you spite

I stare while you jeer

I ponder while you remark.

I do not belong

While you, you bond.

I am me, and you…

Are neither me, nor you nor us, nor them

I breathe, while you curb.

I do not belong.

Neither do you.

We are not one.

You! The people of the strange town.

The one’s in denial.

I do not belong.

When Clouds Collide

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What a fancy thing is it. The blue sky—roaring blue sky. And clouds. Gosh so many clouds. Clouds represent people sometimes. Wandering about. Drifting about. Like vapors. Except much larger and much far off.

Clouds were solace. Are solace. When wind comes to blow away memories that one wants to hold on to. Clouds are a solace. They don’t stop it from happening. But theirĀ  being there up above in a manner which nothing else can afford–does nothing more than give one hope that memories can never be just taken away by a simple wind..because memories are kept within a person, and no matter how weak he is, he can still hold on to them. Because they are like a thread which keeps him sane.

Clouds are a comfort. In rains. Rains that you wish would never stop. They tell you that there is more to come. Rains that you want to stop. Then the clouds just silently drift away silently…far away.

Clouds. Ha. Clouds are hope in the sun. Up in the sky. they tell you that in the sun–they can hold on to themselves. An entire vapor. Which can float in the sky…and face the sun. They tell you to never let go.

Clouds are strange. They are many things. Many moods. Many feelings.

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When clouds collide! Only then there is something close to a stormy situation. There is noise. But follows it–silence.

Just like you and me. We linger. And we drift. We stand. We hold on. We try not to let go. We meet. We collide. We silently drift away. We collide again. We become one.

And on a clear sky–the blue wonderful intense sky. Upon which an eagle takes its sole flight. Hovers. There areĀ  dispersed a thousand millions vapors. Holding onto each other. In the form of a cloud, or many clouds. Moving, lingering–drifting. Breaking the silence. Making the silence.

And then they collide. They bond.

And amidst all the clouds. You were there. And i was there. And we kept drifting. Until we became one. That was a long time ago. We’ll keep drifting. Until we become one–again.

When clouds collide. There comes with it rage. And anger. And passion. And follows it–peace and finally silence.

When clouds collide. A beautiful catastrophe.

Let There Be Silence– Smoke In My Face.

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In the shadows that falter somewhere. Somewhere the ghosts whose cries of solitude and despondency cuts through the air–shrill, sad.

While we become restless–because of the thousand faces we see in the mirror. The million and one voices that we hear when we are alone.

It is all there. We are at a loss maybe.

In each greeting, we hear whispers.

From a vantage point we stand alone–hearing the bleeding world howl.

And from there we hear the birds being happy.

And from there we hear dreams coming true.

And songs and music.

And death and whispers.

Shhh.

Let there be silence.

Let there be dark.

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The visible vapor. Is it mist? Where does it come from?

Now it rises.

Now it turns dark.

Now it dissolves in thin air–making it thick.

Now it rises again.

Where does it come from?

Me.

IS it my soul?

Is it?

It comes and it rises–dissolving into air.

It leaves me–there while i stand at the vantage point.

It’ll come back to me–i know.

Is it heading towards salvation?

Being chastised?

There it rises–like mist.

There is smoke in my face–and it is me.

So i keep standing there–at the vantage point…listening to the silence

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