foggy watershed

I m picking up the scattered pieces,
they seem invisible.
they push me, they blind me,
to the brink of the watershed,
of my dangling fear,
and of my despicable prejudice...

winter aurora

The unhindered mental blockade,
the monotonous blinking of eyes,
a crumpled paper and,
the frozen ink of my pen,
all subside

to the white expanse of  a lonesome land,
the mountains on the horizon silhouetted
against the shimmering dark space

as the solar wind ionizes the thin air
high up where the doors of perception
give way to science
and the nature bestows upon us a spectacle
of lights,
of possibilities,
of elegance and beauty


even on this frozen night of sordid dreams
winter aurora wreaks silence
flaring up the night, yellow and green

labyrinth of a mind's eye

On a road of strange curves,
in the conquest of an unfettered fort,
my mind swings and swirls with  an endemic zeal
I win, and forfeit the white waters of life.


I try , I fail
I live , I win

though, can we ever decipher
the labyrinth of a mind's eye?

times of splendor

i am going down the lane of mystic memories
to the time of our conscious joy
to the time when the desires were mere illusions
and the illusions stood desirable
to the time when winters felt cold and the summers
hot
to the time of honest laughs and
dishonest cries
to the time when failures
were a lower denomination of success
i want to go back in time
back to the times of splendor

carpathian fog

gorges of severity block the swirling winds
racing with the looming fog
engulfing the horizon of dismay, as they get
entangled in the misty forests of carpathian
screams of silence dampen our drooping faces
we stand still, very still
to reach out to the last gush of white