Rapunzel

Incognito and in between,

Unheard or so it seems.

Serenade in raspy tones,

Lonely but not alone.

An almost word, never said,

She’s the wound which never bled.

Out of tune, your melody,

On its way, entangled in a tree.

Eleven flights and seven more,

She stood, trapped in folklore.

7:22 am

One plan,

Stay calm.

Packed dreams,

Moon beams.

Sleep tight,

Its alright.

Right ahead,

Enough said.

Endless words,

Silence heard.

Last kiss,

Heartbeat missed.

Resonance

The enchantress with locks of temptation,

Sinewy fingers create sweet vibrations.

The captain walks bare-feet in disgrace,

A holy crime, her innocence, he braced.

A pair of worn out, tired feet,

Soul-less, they rest like ink on my sheet.

The taste, just like you, slightly oversweet.

Names we forget; ignore sinewy fingers & tired feet.

That which was, is here again,

'Follow me', she tells the saints.

A question, unanswered, unasked.

Fear of failure didn't need to be masked.

The pattern, we never saw, he said,

Synchronized chaos, we pledged.

A sound, then another and the next,

Perfectly timed, hand in hand at best.

My half hearted pictures she painted,

Complete in its emptiness, my poor head.

It stops beating, for just one instance,

Life, escaping away, bit by bit from my nostrils.

The first sights & sounds, the first impression,

Beyond comprehension, in an eclipse, the sun.

A sweet scented flame, she feeds

To a second surrender, the ashes lead.

Through eyes closed, we perceive,

With senses numbed, we feel.

The beginning of the end

Pull out the strings of memory and weave me a life,

Prove your existence and take a new one in lieu.

Chalk marks you etched, all will be wiped,

What will be left of you or the world you once knew?

Rewind, pause and relive – before the clock strikes you.

Reverse begins soon; hold on tighter to the precious few.

All that you knew, nothing will ever again be true,

Before ‘now’ begins, let go the strings of fear.

Say the last words, one too many times,

How can it be enough when the memory won’t wake you?

One by one it will flow through your veins – the strange & the sublime,

Never lived, not died, a perfect life – undented and new.

But when you rise, a lot must die,

An almost dream ends; nothing more than a silent sigh.

The life, the perfect life has just begun.