The narratives of you and me

This is why I know you

and my calculation of the heart

revolves around the myths I manufacture

around me

I have my reasons sorted out

or so they seem to be

it is about me

and what I perceive I believe in

I love to have that meaning

that defines me

When I walk that boulevard with you

I look at the colorless rain filled sky

and your red color fashion statement

howsoever absurd it may seem

tends to reflect your candor

or that's what I gather

there are many "I's" in what I am writing here

When I close my eyes and try to breathe deeper

while flying from one thought

to other silly innuendo

I see you face, clear without blemishes

and in the circle of white translucent light

smiling, head tilted towards me

while you listen to what I say

When I look at everything with love

I seem to transcend the transactional

the semantics of you and me

is surely menial to

what we feel

when we sit quietly

with each others' warmth

If I just "be",

I am me

and you are you

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Rise with you

When the sun stretches its golden arms, and the morning whispers your name, I think of you, steady as the tide, warm as the hearth, a beacon in the quiet storm. Your laughter, a melody that dances through the chaos, a song I hum when the world grows heavy. Your spirit, unyielding, a tree rooted deep, its branches reaching for the infinite sky. In your presence, I am more. Not because you fill me, but because you remind me of the light I carry within. You are the mirror that reflects the beauty I often forget. Together, we are a symphony— not perfect, but alive, each note a testament to the joy of being seen, of being known. You are my safe harbour, my compass in the wild, my friend, my love, my vista And when the night falls, and the stars blink awake, I will rise with you not above, not below, but besides, always besides, in the quiet grace of this boundless love. And when the night descen...

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I was smitten by the silence of the dawn, or perhaps it was the dew that clung to the grass like a secret too fragile to speak. The trees stood tall, their leaves whispering stories of nights spent wrestling the wind, and I thought it was just me but the sparrow, too, carried the weight of its nest, the ant its crumb, the spider its web, each thread trembling with the burden of holding on. The sun rose, not with a fanfare, but with a quiet insistence, pushing through the haze like a hand reaching for a forgotten name. A butterfly brushed past, its wings a flicker of pale yellow against the orange sky, and I thought it was just me but the flower, too, had its petals to unfurl, its nectar to offer, its brief, bright moment in the sun. The path stretched ahead, winding through the shadows and the light, and I thought it was just me but the earth, too, had its cracks to mend, its roots to...

The ballad of hazardous (or blissful) cascades of emotions

Sometimes the illusion of a happening happens sometimes the emotions roll over sometimes the pathogens of spilled over desire sabotages the pilgrimage of the heart sometimes it is good to divert attention towards the non-attentive nerves sometimes it is okay to be what we are sometimes it is really a exhilaration of the existential to be in those moments of rapture where time ceases to exist and you and me measure the moment through a deeper turmoil of being alive sometimes it is good to fall sometimes the brain functions paralyzes and the raw nerves get pricked up sometimes we gain our sanity by responding to the deep trance of the emotional and the physical Sometimes we need to paraphrase guilt when love envelopes our being, there is an absence of guilt and presence of something divine, something which cannot be deciphered, defined or even transferred to someone else's perspective What happened was something that would have happened in a dream Sometimes there is a n...

Sandeep Kulshrestha's Poetry

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