perfect

so little I know of you
maybe that's why
you are so perfect

journey

i'd like to go 

on a nice long train ride

through the network of your brain 

navigate through 

criss-crossed thoughts

discover secrets,

surprises and grey areas

let me roar through

steep mountains, dark tunnels 

and fertile fields of red and gold 

and ease up 

at dimly-lit abandoned stations 

nobody else cares to stop at 

look, do you see 

that cat on the platform? 

curious eyes watch 

from underneath the magazine-cart 

the door's open, 

let me stand here

and watch the sky form 

long streaks of motion blur

slow down, you say 

and patterns start to emerge

as the engine pulls into a new place

in anticipation 

of conversations over

steaming hot cups of chai 

and the promise

of exploring

uncharted waters 

the signal reflects

the fiery setting sun

it's time to get off here.

privilege

a shiny new car

a new shirt from the mall 

see, want, buy -- things we don't need 

but would like to have

the lightness of easy spending 

the buoyancy of affordability 

does it really make up 

for the guilt of privilege

that rests heavy

unbudging

art

a poetic verse
drowning in the sound 

of a crowd talking among themselves

an elaborate illustration 

lost on the walls

of a dirty, stinking subway

a beautiful song

trying to make its presence felt

among train announcements

a grey photograph

subdued by the loud

angry neon billboard 

a profound comic

dying in the noise of 

Instagram feeds

a rich voice

singing to the stars

in the middle of the desert

extraordinary works

undiscovered stories 

overshadowed by busy daily lives 

why bother at all 

to create a piece of art 

what is it worth? 

revival

delicate little

herb plant

you died overnight

leaves droop

and hang over 

the side of the pot

i add some water

in the hope that maybe

tomorrow you will revive yourself

and in the morning,

i find a miracle

replenished again, you're doing fine

if only this worked

for everyone.  

decisions

perhaps there are no right

and wrong decisions

perhaps there is only

a slot of time 

ache

love is sustaining

love is fulfilling

loving is easy, they say 

but love

which truly transforms 

is love

which is a 

special kind of ache. 

will

a little leaf

peeking out

from the crack in the ground

wet, bent over

by the merciless rain 

a struggle

to survive 

bearing the weight 

of heavy, shiny droplets 

there's so much fight

left in it yet