Sometimes words don’t sit on paper,
In my mind they move endlessly,
Just like bubbles in space.
Constellating around, they appear to me,
And with my mind, through the bubble-like-words,
I see a world convexed.

Afraid to see it and its stark realities,
I break the bubbles moving, with my pen,
By penning few words on paper.
When all is done, when my poem is done,
The world I see appears normal,
And I close my notebook, contended.

But during night, in a stillness of moment,
They rise again, from my notebook, like bubbles,
And start to constellate again,
In the galaxy of my dreams,
Giving me new nightmares of the world.
Perhaps a nightmare is just a dream convexed.
What to do? Words sometimes just don’t sit on paper,
And I am vexed seeing a world convexed.

--- aakarsh.

Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: raag lalit