Q u i d a m

Same old dust

Old things aren't same,

if it's not rust or dust,

but in northern light you can't see,

the sublime lyrics of unsung

dreams, you wish to see

tied by clips—

A road for travellers',

A mind of thinkers,

Wandering through pictures,

that is hot by iron railings,

Should I sit—

No, it'll be another season

without a loop.

The wind blows, the ship sails,

but to where— no one cares,

on stormy night, everything

is covered with crust of events,

happy, sad, who cares!

In spite of thoughts,

In spite of bright specks,

If hope is another lie,

I don't know if you should,

trust broken tires,

possessing the field.

When the daylight comes,

It just comes,

No ifs or buts—

but even waves are waves,

so is the oldness,

so is the light.

to peer, to cheers,

for every brave

hearts—

Wait for the leaf to burst!

Everything in vain, if the current

flow is blowing, would you tread

and bet for stillness?

Til' this date,

no one knows,

who comes, who goes.

Saved everything in purple box—

that stay still in every dusk.

— 29th February, 2024