>> Dec 15, 2009
Remembrance is a trespasser.
And still, every night
I dream of you, you of one and one of many.
We circle, forget and again indulge.
Futility has an attraction of its own.
A life that we live but we wish.
A truth we see but what we believe.
A dream that is awake and another that is asleep.
Light is bent for everything
that happens with our without us.
I wish I will touch the Sun on the horizon,someday.
Can emotions be that cold ever?
Never if they are alive.
In between life and death, I count dreams.
and cross tress with white chalks
So that in the morning I can just walk upto that
and believe what we don't wish to.
We are taught
I can only strive for a wish.
They should always be like tomorrows and yesterdays.
Between them we are, we live, and nomore.
I believe, I will meet me one night
To forget how to remember.
And see how the faded watermarks
learn to die and to live..
...yet another dream.