Dear magical wonders.

The ringmaster stands on the masterpiece

With a flick of the wand a rabbit appears

His spells leaving the mouths of the children

Stunned and excited at the marvelous act

QAn act creating a deceitful reality

He blows rings of fire into the lust air

And into each ring, words of incantation

Abracadabra and poof

A man appears; tall and handsome

Amidst the mist of the devious smoke

I stand there helplessly with a wand

Chanting the same incantations and whispers

Creating circles of imagination

Anything that would bring him back.

My grandfather.

I watch the ringmaster in scrutiny

Flawless, confident and convincing

Building into the lively void of the stage

The platform at the humbleness of his feet

Applauded for the hand in the lions mouth

Where was I wrong?

Was it the fathoms of my thoughts?

Or the undeniable reality that he was gone. GONE.

And here I was alone on the ground

Wishing upon the stars

The ringmaster weaved threads of imagination

While I knitted the yarn of the past

Should it work just once?

Magic for miracles of my desires

A chance for a long sought goodbye

As the flames blared on the stage

And the lion roared at the command of the whip

In the fraction of the blink of my eye

Amidst the glowing yellow I saw his face

Smiling at my teary appearance…


Screenshot_20180122-225153__01.jpgEach star connects another

They shine bright in the dark of death

They are my feelings I can never express.

I see what I want to see…

In the dark backdrop I see a unicorn,

Dancing to the rhythm of the raindrops.


Next to me a small child sees what it fears.

It shrieks and runs away.

I smile at myself.

The stars shape what I want

And what I want is what I shall become.


Today in this night I can see the people in the stars

Family, friends, loved ones smiling down

I can feel the warmth reaching my toes

They watch upon us, and we watch them

It’s a mutual world…we draw power from what they show.


I close my eyes and embrace the dusky night

It won’t be the same tomorrow, I know it

Yet I can’t run away because I fear the end

For today it has just begun. I look at the stars,

Each constellation has a story to be told

The story of our existence…




I looked at the corpse, dead, broken

Wrinkled fingers that once touched rice

Worn out soles that treaded on stones

Marked by pieces of glass hidden by skin

His eyes stared into a ghastly space

A thousand moments captured timelessly

A cow, a deer, a snake slithering

His daughter, his wife and his house

His hands are frozen in the spasm of threat

The dirt beneath his nails from the soil he dug

The wrinkles on his palm travelling spaces of thought

And his fingers longing the touch of another

His lungs have expanded in desperation

His heart in the moment of life

And when all blood stood still in his veins

His lips parted in acceptance

I draw line on his body with my scalpel

Eager to learn what he is teaching me

Knowledge bleeds out and along with it

My breath fills his listless life

My fingers cringe at the touch of his skin

As though each touch transfers to me

A shadow of his forgotten life

Now waiting to be explored by the tears of my knife

He had learnt the wayward of life

And I had the simplest of them all

A scalpel, a book, a body

And the rich experience of existing