Like The Seasons | Poetry

May be we’re like the season
I’ve never seen
spring meeting autumn,
like the day never sees the dawn
all we do in our alternate universes
is quietly burn.

Like summer and winter,
when one comes
you are bound to remember the other.

May be we really are like the seasons
fading away time and again.
Perhaps this is the sign of being human;
flawed like the cracks winter brings
to be cured only by the warm summer rays.

But we often forget
the first green of spring
and the first fall of leaves
as they turn golden.

May be just like the season
we will all be,
a little jealous of spring and summer,
autumn and winter
because they get through eternity
together.

And may be just like the season
we keep repeating our lives in circles,
in hopes of something new in every corner.

Just like the seasons
we think spring
was late this time around
and winter was colder
and we eventually forget
how it was,
once upon a summer.

And like the seasons we let go,
when spring leaves for summer
and summer opens its doors for autumn
autumn bids goodbye for winter
and then for spring to arrive again.

Like the seasons,
we learn
we can’t really overcome
and perhaps that is why we embrace,
spring for its blossom,
summer for its color,
the leaves of autumn
and the winds of winter.

May be we are
just like the seasons.


I stumbled across the line, ‘I’ve never seen spring meeting autumn.’ And my first reaction was, ‘How can they ever meet, they’re seasons!’ Exactly, they are seasons. The subtle thought that there are seasons that never see each other inspired me to scribble down this piece. 

And I love

And I love
All of these and more.

These feet
That do not touch the ground
When seated over a chair,

This voice
Too high pitched that pierces
My own ears,

That laugh
Loud and noisy,
Unfit for normal conversations.

But I love
All of these and more.

These lips
At times that speak words
That were better not spoken,

Those hands
Breaking things into pieces
That cannot be rejoined without a scar,

This blurry eyes
That stare into the skies
Hoping to count all of the stars someday.

Yet I love
All of these and more.

This heart
Completely flawed
That still keeps on beating.

And I love
All of these and more,
All of these and more.

Two Parallel Lines

Our minds are two parallel lines drawn from left to right,
right to left, any deviation
makes the blood under our thin skins boil.
We havent thought of the triangles, and the circles,
the rectangles and the vast sky with no lines.
Our minds have become two parallel lines, any deviation
making our blood under our thin skins boil.

The circles that make up the chains we see not,
because criminals we are each of us,
hard not to be one
to keep the lines from the minds we have,
the words we speak
and the unknown we cannot touch.

These lines creeping in our
windows and doors,
curtains and clothes,
eyes and ears,
hearts and souls.
Demons we have each of us,
to let go must look at it first,
eye to eye
word to word,
and say goodbye.

Patience it takes to convert these parallel lines
into sharp triangles, and smooth circles.
Courage it takes to look at them,
to admit their existence.
Our minds are two parallel lines,
running from left to right and right to left,
any deviation makes the blood under these thin skins boil.

Two parallel lines, thats what we’ve become,
wont you stretch a little side by side?

Think think think. About these parallel lines.