Language of love

A language, unspoken

No words, no slogans 

No commas, no full stops, just lullabies, and songs 

No grammar, no punctuation, just right from wrong 

A language known beyond the borders, understood only by some 

It speaks of many feelings but is also filled with fun

It’s the language of every mother, 

And of every other who feels like a mother

Untouch

All that you love might not fit in the palm of your hand.

Things that matter the most, are things we can’t possess

You could cling on to someone all night

until they leave you alone at sunrise,

and the emptiness takes it’s place right.

The Night creates illusions,

but again, the sun throws light.

Think beyond belongingness, think appreciation and admiration

The tighter we grasp on to things in ownage, the faster we kill them.

For a bird can’t fly in a cage, and a flower won’t bloom when cut

and we can’t grab hold of water or air or sunlight

Or Souls

We could touch the skin, the cover that covers what’s inside,

but not what’s inside.

And isn’t that an illusion?

For it makes you feel you’re near what you love,

while you’re still layers and layers away.

Try loving from distance

From where you can give but not demand

How about loving without acquiring?

For what it is and not what it gives you

Like loving the moon, but not for moonlight.

Sunsets

There’s light after dark
and dark before the light
A little walk through grim,
could take you to the bright

Juggling roles, balancing poles,
Relentlessly walking on a torn rope
From dawn to dusk to dawn to dusk
Scared of falling, falling out of hope

Muddle through the friction of battling forces
To hold on to it or let go?
Absorbed in guarding what’s ours
Insolent to the beauty of free flow.

Rouse now or sleep longer
Eye not I, the big round world
Rouse from under the cloak of yearning
Eye around, the big round world.

Like the Earth that lets the Sun set
as the horizon awaits its goodbye kiss
It’s prized a Moon for letting go,
Crescent, quarter or half, a full bliss.