Saturday, January 29, 2011

Jo mujhe raah dikhaye
wohi tara na raha

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Dust gathers on the books we once read, over and over,
Life must be like that. Time is a funny thing.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Now for some Yeats

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face. . .

The tearability and Breakability of people

Some nights I watch the patterns the rain leaves on the cobblestone path, under my bedroom window. Leaves and stones and dragons surface. Part of me believes that one day, walking on your road,wherever you are, you too might see the same motif of water on stone, and briefly we will stand in a togetherness of our own construction.Unfettered by time and distance and fact.How odd are the ways the heart finds its intimacy.

I wish you infinite happiness and pray that your life finds its discrening audience, its reasonable critics.

Underneath the ounce of regret, the guilt and the grief, there is a clearing I know for you. A place to come to after everything, when you need nothing at all and everything too.I leave you now, hoping that you'll find faith in the morning and compassion at dusk.

Monday, January 3, 2011

But it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next.