Turning 22

The sun signs off for the day
Benign and magnificent in its parting glory…
And, we let it go…for they say…
If you love them, set them free…

The wind comes out of nowhere
Threatening to blow all away…
As, rain rips apart the evening sky
I take a walk…

As, the rain encompasses me
Things become hazy and hard to see…
Yet, things have rarely been clearer…
I have seldom been so free

All is still…as the world seems to reflect…
Life and crossroads…death and wisdom…
All is quiet…as the world seems to listen…
Fury and peace…rhythm and rain…

The walk continues…as does age…
Another year of decay and growth…
As, I walk towards maturity and death…
Life…a tension of opposites…continues…

Buried

I seek not to redress or purge
I seek not revenge or retribution
In these lonely sojourns…
In my yearly visits back to life

The age-old rituals and sound of dhaks
The smells, sights and sounds…
The familiar warmth
And, the feeling of being home again

Time and time again…
Tilottoma in your arms…
In crescent moons and fleur de lis
I sleep…I cry…I remember…

The dark room and old roads
And, trying to explain where I stand…
Tearing apart those who try to reach out
Pushing them, hurting them…till it hurts no more

I know not why I write…
As, I see the sun rise from the early morning flight
And, I return to the world burying you deep inside…
But, as much as I try Tilottoma, you are buried but never forgotten.