Unreal truth

Life, is such a mirage. An accumulation of things and situations that seem real. But aren't real. That doesn't however make them any less beautiful though. I have a craving for beautiful things. For love and madness. Love and madness cannot be totally real anyway. Else they would not be love and madness. Love and madness is always in the mind. Always outside of a perceived reality. In a realm of their own where everything works but without rules. Where everything is true even if unreal.

If I had to choose between the real and unreal. I would choose the unreal and call it the truth.

Gargi

Can I be yours

Can I be yours
at a place
where nothing matters
except the love
that we share

Can I be yours
at a time
when nothing occurs
except a touch
of our hands

Can I be yours
on a date
that knows no reason
except the oneness
of our souls

Gargi

Blessed

My home, the exquisite palace -
adorned with prosperity and golden lace.
What use is it to the homeless old man?
How can it ever solve his case?

My garden, the haven of luxury -
all flowers so precious, rare and gay
What use is it to the hungry little child?
Can it bring him out of hunger's way?

My gowns, their extravaganza -
precious stones, the finest of silk
What use is it to the sad blind girl?
Can it give her, her life's pick?

My friends, the influential lot -
incredibly able, outrageously rich
What use are they to the lost weeping baby?
Can they find the mother, the unlucky lady?

There are times when we all feel deprived. Deprived of all the good things that we think we deserve. Deprived of all the love that we think we have missed. Deprived of all the richness that might have been ours. It's human, natural and perhaps even important for certain intangible reasons.

However, there are also certain days when we feel lucky and blessed. Blessed with a safe place called home. Blessed with abundant, unending and unconditional love of those that matter. Blessed with books that never cease to inspire. Blessed with friends who never utter a word unwise. Blessed with a mind capable of thought. Blessed with a present we can call our own. Blessed with a life that is so much worthy of living.

Feeling blessed,
Gargi

Today, yesterday and tomorrow

Is there a tomorrow? Yes, there probably is. Even if there isn't, there was a yesterday. Tomorrow will likely be no different. Maybe we should treat all tomorrows like yesterdays.

Gargi

Place called home

I'd want to build a home someday
with nimble notes of music for bricks
those that'd lend their sweet echoing voices
those that'd ring over and beyond my gardens.
Whimsical words would make up my walls
their heart warming melody, my ceiling.

I'd have a home that'd rest on the hills
an abode of all my forgotten dreams.
I'd have fixtures made of love, light and trust
I'd paint them with the colors of joy and comfort.
I'd have a door that'd sing a song of sweet delight
I'd swing it wide to welcome you home each night.

I'd have two friends who'd often visit
who'd sit by the light and talk things I'd not recall
I'd have an oven to bake them brown bread
I'd serve on purple plates with white flowers on them
I'd talk to them about my dog and its rug
and I'd hope my dog would rush me a hug.

I'd long for Sundays for my mother'd be home
she'd bring me things I'd never use for a long time to come
I'd still wrap and store 'em in brown bags carefully
I'd give her a teary kiss and thank her profusely
She'd talk to me of my little sister's nice new pond
I'd listen delightedly and would want to laugh loud

I'd long to be home when the world'd shun me
to listen to my father and his never ending rants
I'd long to be lost in my sister's light laughter
to be with my mother as she'd search her mower
I'd long to be home where there'd be you and our laughter
I'd long to finally be home never to go out after.

Gargi