A Note to Self

Hold on,

what are you holding on to

and why?

Those ideas, plans, views

opinions of what all under the sky

should be?


For waters carry no words.

No stories,

not a single verse.

And every made-up belief

adds a white-picket fence

around your distraction fields.


Hold on,

What are you holding on to?

Sink deep, into

spaces that make you quiet.

Dig old forsaken pleasures out,

those fragile bits of absolute silence.


You don’t have to answer it.

But you see – what’ll be, will be

and no reason,

no force,

no strength of a grip

ever made a difference.




Time after time

Allow yourself to remember, in the silence of rain

When stories hush over fields of forgotten dreams

And earthy smell of wet ground, briefly, takes you home

Allow yourself to remember, in the presence of laughter

Where inhales meet exhales on that bitter-sweet border

Of everything that is, and everything that hasn’t become

Allow yourself to remember, when darkness pulls you close

Whispering night terrors whilst dawn holds back

And starless skies make you wonder if price came too high

Allow yourself to remember, as age and diamonds pile

Whenever destiny confirms that her grip allows no escape

Allow yourself to remember me, in moods of the heart, sometimes

Time after time



On Canvas made of Silence

Across time and distance, it waits

For us to slow down and see it for what it is;

Ties, invisible, have a character and patience of their own.

Weighed down by baggage, we hustle ourselves

Into the known – or that which we deem knowable

Where minds produce realities of our liking

And we get to ignore forces of nature, including our own.

Across time and distance, few bonds survive

Like cacti in a desert that need no water to bloom

In lonely landscapes that penetrate our existence.

I can’t tell if our orbits shall run into one another again, or

Whether our circumstances will be aligned.

But I sit here watching the invisible link

Between us: a trail intact while we’re still strangers.

Across time and distance, you make me smile.

On canvas made of silence


Was it what you knew
That drew you away?
Was it that we weren’t aware?
Our arc of togetherness
Is burdened by all said, or unsaid;
We forgot how to be.

Silence and secrets –
Sly balms and weapons –
Too long to aid, too short to awaken
Make us opposing figures
In a stalemate game.

Inevitably time flow will
End mutual deafness.
Or innate pulsation of piled decades.
Do you, too, blame me?
We are love stuck in a maze, seeking the line
Of rich and of poor patience.


A Barricade

 Now there is silence; convincing, dense.

A roadblock of dread: anxieties on what’s to come fueled by wrongs of times past. Next to the lumpy heap on sunless asphalt rests actuality and its plain might flees our naked eyes.

A playback of thoughts doesn’t still. Time drips like wax on flame.

Adrift in wakeful ages, I can’t locate the exit from the state of stand-by. Again and again, providence mulls if past our barricade awaits a second chance.