April 2004

View all on this date written articles further down below.

A dewdrop

A tiny dewdrop is born
In the cradle of a pedal
Of a crimson rose
In a country garden.

Wafts of sweetness
Sing to its birth:
“A gift from the heavens,
A star on earth.”

The dewdrop smiles back
At the first rays of dawn
That shine upon his beauty
That sparkles in the morn.

From his wondrous birth
Came his wondrous love
That he showers on all
With the most magnificent colours.

Alas, no one seems
To care about his dream.
“Am I worthy of love?”
He asks, as he turns and he turns.

The lonely dewdrop
Soon loses his rays
As he grows smaller
Tired and grey.

Eventually the Sun
Pities the lovelorn dewdrop
By bringing him up
To the heavens again.

One can still hear
His song lingers
In the brief moment after
A fresh spring rain

“Am I worthy of love?”




Loneliness, is
The last leaf that hangs on
A tree in a forest in a dark autumn.
The anticipation, the fear, of the
Wind that comes
At any moment, to blow you away.

Loneliness, is
Staring at drunken bodies wriggling
To heart-wrenching thumps
With dead smiles
In the wee hours of a Saturday night.
An empty Sunday bed.

Loneliness, is
The ingestion of tears and
The brave formulation of a smile
To deepen the wound, that is
A sin for others to see.

Loneliness, is
When he prefers to look out of the window,
Looking at the shadow of the next building.

Loneliness, is
The infinity of questions you ask
With no reply.