My little Secret

I have had a secret ,
My little ribboned wooden box
With kaleidoscopic holes.
Showing myriad of tinted glass pieces.
All intermingled in time,
Each creating a pattern of life.
And stained with the essence
Of me and those moments unique,
Unsurpassed in their intensity
Of joys and sorrows alike.
My little treasure chest
Contents oozing out of the edges.
With memories uncountable
Mingled,Lost,Confused.
Yet,distinct.
''You'',my secret-My world.
And I hid you,guarded you.
Lest they take you from me,
Like all that I lost,all that was snatched ....
Over the years moth or moist
Could not touch you,
Nor time could ravage your being.
No friend or confidante could
Even guess your existence.
In my box of memories...
Your Existence,My Being.
But now,after all those years,
You have come to claim your right.
You say it was yours and never was mine.
While I could never have imagined
My secret will claim its breath
Demand its life,
Stripping naked to the world
My Big little secret.
Untying the ribbon,like Pandora's box,
Shattering the kaleidoscope,
Of My world,My very Being!
As you assume your life,
I die a silent death and so does my box
And the patterns.The Glasses and The Dreams.
Void of all I had.
My Breath...My Love,my soul.
And Mine ''You''!

Holes in my windows.

There are holes in the window,
Its winter again,
The winds blow and bring in the blast of heatless breath.
Howcome,the blankets have lost their warmth?
Why have the fire lost its heat?
Where have those days gone?
When I would have all of it?
The warmth ,the heat and the dust
Of the sunny morns and windows without holes
Of creatures without heart and dreams unsold...
But now,I live here,
With the wet woods which refuse to burn...
And the windows which crack from time to time.

The Face

It is just a face,one face,your face that i recalled,
While the sands of time dripped by,
But was it a face or a mask?
An image of my dreams and infinite expectations.
Somewhere lost and tarnished
And then the gore oozing from the mask,
The face uncovered ,the mask unravelled,
Blood!Is that all?Is that all that is lost?
Or maybe something more?
I see you today but ah!a new mask,
Seems new ,I like the colours,the vibrance
Which blinds the eye,the hardness which hurts the face,
But,wt about the old one which I had made?
You do not know it,do you?
But then again does it matter ?
The cost of my innocence and your deception...
I might not be able to account for it...
But look at the mask I wear,
The grin on it and the holes over my eyes...
Maybe or may not be you see the tears beneath it...
The hard,colourfully pale mask
-Of Time and Perception.

An Afternoon in the Library

I sat across the table ,
Staring at the empty chairs.
I look across the bookshelves,
With voices ringing in my ears..
Until my eyes rested on the doors
And i thought it would open
But instead somewhere in the thoughts the time just grew swollen .
The piles of books and the myriad of thoughts...
I stared at the bookmarks,
And thought of the weird plots...
Authors ,art,plots and identities,
I feel lost amidst the patterns...
But none ever realised the futility.
In the vain endeavours and lifelong searches,
They'll all be lost ,didn't they ever think ?
Once there's a rebirth and new means of thinking...