The Road Within Some journeys happen without moving feet,Like incense climbing while the shrine stands still;The lamp travels far where shadows meet,By holding flame, obedient to will. The mind begins its road when noise grows thin,It walks through thought the way night walks through breath;Old walls dissolve, new inner skies begin,And habits loosen their long […]
hope Hope is an oil lamp cupped in wavering palms,Its wick steady though the monsoon tests the flame.It calls like a cuckoo in rain-dark fields,Singing without waiting for the moon. It moves ahead like jasmine before the flower opens,Trusting fragrance long before the white appears.When time pauses between one breath and the next,And the world
The Prayer of Waiting I no longer run after the sky’s retreating hem,I wait like a stone step cooled by evening feet.The land cups a lamp as dusk leans down to pray,And the horizon returns barefoot, scented with rain.
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The Guarded Flame I hold my silence like a guarded flame against the storm,Wordless in breath, yet burning softly with truth.It leads me like a river through moonless night,Showing my steps what my tongue cannot say.
Keep Moving I carry my destination like a lamp in my chest,Its small flame knows the road better than my eyes.Dogs bark along the way, sharp as stones on tin roofs,Their noise rising like dust behind my heels. If I turn back to throw words like pebbles,My footsteps scatter like frightened birds.So I walk on,
The House Without Doors I step into a house with no doors,like dusk slipping into light.A silence sits beside me,steady as a lamp in wind.It walks with my life like a shadow that never frightens,And stays the way a river remembers its bank, even in flood.Only then do I learn its name: friendship.
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The Sentence That Became a Heartbeat Age had slowed us down. A routine medical consultation had brought us to a reputed multi-speciality hospital in Kochi. The place carried a strange mix of warmth and restraint – soft lighting, polished stone floors, quiet footsteps, and the steady hum of air-conditioning. Nurses moved calmly, tablets in hand.
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Where Love Learned To Wait I was never taught the art of hiding.Not love –it flowed from me like oil from a lit lamp,meant only to give light. Not sorrow-it settled in me like morning mist,thin, patient, and faithful. And never your name,which rose within methe way temple bells rise at dawn –not to announce,not
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Seven Quiet Colours of Goodbye I hear you speak of a life braided with many turnings,Like a river splitting into countless arms,While my heart has learned only one narrow path,A pilgrim’s road worn down by hope,Ending where your name once glowed,And now grows dim. You turn away from one more dawn with me.So let me
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When The Sun Is Still Ours Life is a fragile lamp, glowing on borrowed oil,Each sunrise a gift, wrapped in gold and silence.Tomorrow is a door that may never open,So drink this hour like dew before it fades.
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