Hopes and dreams,

In front of my eyes,

Flowing like a stream,

Oh but they are wise…


Through these thoughts I swim,

Finding sense in all this,

My eyes filled to the brim,

Oh these hopes and dreams’ bliss!



Just as it was,

enchanted by a smile,

arms spread in warmth,

neither hesitant for a while.


Daring to speak,

around the clock,

virtue- a friend to seek,

in time’s lock.


Date with destiny.




Deeper I sink,

ocean blue,

drowning I think,

in you.


A speck of gold,

and smiles,

a story being told,

these eyes.






Awake and still,

staring at the ceiling,

the want to silence these thoughts,

away the imagination floats.


Away, these thoughts I chase,

silence filling up this space,

slow breaths lingering,

I remain, Awake and Still.


© Shy


Alchemists have sought the philosopher’s stone.


Researches made, researches failed.


Why do we seek what is beyond reach?


Is it not true that what most seem out of reach is actually finger miles away?


And so he wrote, “Distance is only a physical quantity,

Grow beyond that,

I possess the philosopher’s stone,

Thus I am immortal.


I am the philosopher,

This so called stone is my heart,

A stone is only cold on the surface,

But when broken to pieces, minerals flow out,

Aren’t these the world’s most sought resources?”


© Shy

Trust in the “know”.

Forget the “how”.

What we have is “now”.

Don’t you “let go”.


My Universe had whispered,

And I dwell, thinking,

Perhaps I have misheard,

For here you were, leaving.


Is it for the best?

I could not digest.


© Shy

Thousands of ocean miles,
across the path of a traveler,
whose unbend-able smiles,
lead to the gate of a Romancer.

There at the gate stands,
the traveler yet not alone,
for many a visitor descends,
ever since the artist was born.

On golden marches,
rested the traveler,
composing poems from scratches,
for non but the Romancer.

Like arms open wide,
the gate spreads itself,
and a visitor gets outside,
while another steps in blessed.

In sun, rain and cold,
waited the traveler,
patiently to be called,
by the respected Romancer.

Ink ran dry,
quills refusing to write,
parchments withered in cry,
and lips held poems which died.

With no sign of the Romancer,
and running out of hope,
broken to pieces was the traveler,
but gathering ideas in scope.

Through the keyhole,
peeped the traveler,
seeing a couple waltzing in a hall,
where stayed the Romancer.

Indeed no way in,
for the gate was well protected,
although it seemed to be a sin,
the traveler wished stones were sugar-coated.

But one day, the gate caught fire,
and the Romancer’s heart burned,
springing love’s most fervent desire,
into vermilion did the traveler turned.

The gate opened grandly,
but someone stood in the way.
The traveler could not enter freely,
thus leaving in dismay.


© Shy

Time to give up.

There’s no light at the end of this tunnel,
Only mere disappointments and shattered dreams,
No ultimate goal,
No clue what to do.

Not a life I’ve foreseen,
Yet so it has been.

Clueless, aimless and lost,
It was a life well lived,
Past goals achieved,
“What’s next?”, you ask.

There’s none but nothing.


© Shy

He needed someone to fight for him,

But he ended up fighting for himself.


Years flew and so he grew,

Out of everything else,

He became the shadow of something that could have been,

While the haunting memories of yesterdays went in flames,

Along with the burning pictures,

which once made his heart rage like an erupting volcano.


With the taste of his own tears caught under his lips,

He sat in disarray,

Helplessly gazing at those flickering flames,

Turning efforts, promises, sacrifices and joys,

Into nothing more,

but mere ashes.


As the wind blew passed his ears and the smoke blinded his sights,

He felt like a part of him had just died.


He smirked as he knew… He’d never be the same again.


© Wild

He crawled his way up to the top,

Where he thought mother nature would shower peace,

In his restless soul.


Breathless and stabbed was the feeling inside his left chest,

But faith laid still in his heart for he believed that his efforts to the top,

Would destroy everything that was slowly killing him.


He sat on the green grass,

Trying to catch his breath,

While his gaze went into contemplation of the view that laid before him.


Such a beauty it was to his eyes.


The sun setting down its light for twilight,

The branches and trees showing signs of life as birds sang their songs,

Through the gentle wind, made life worthy.


For a moment,

He could feel the peace he so yearned,

Coursing through his heart.


It was where he wanted to be.


It was where he needed to be,

But cruelty knows not its limits too,

As he stepped forward to relish what was in front of him.


His eyes went down,

And a voice inside his head whispered:


“Jump and you will be free”.


He took another step forward,

As he began to consider what his demons ordered him,

He closed his eyes,

His heart, thumping like never before.


He was just about to fall to his demise,

When the faces of his beloved ones flashed before him,

His legs crumbled and he went straight to his knees,

Tears rolled down his cheeks.


How could he?


His body became shaky and dismal he was,

By the dark thoughts that filled his mind,

Dejected, pitiful and pathetic he was,

As he tried to pick himself up.


Ashamed of what he was about to do,

He looked up to the sky in tears,

Knowing that something far greater than anything,

Had just saved him despite how desolated he was.


© Wild