Specks of dust

 

Where do people go,

after they go forever?

To the heavens above 

to meet the ones gone before?

Or do they turn into dust,

a part of the universe,

to stay only in memories,

in dreams and stories,

until those who remember

also come to pass?

It seems so much in vain,

to live and just disappear,

like the countless before 

and all those here.

Yet that is the only story,

told over and over again.

No matter what we do;

No matter what we say.

We are just specks of dust,

granted a glorious time,

to live and love a little while,

and then become a memory,

a dream, a story.

And we go back to the earth,

a part of the universe.

To the ones who left, the ones in my dreams and memories, to your unforgettable stories;
I wish you are still here, a part of this universe.

Into that heaven of normalcy

I wrote this in response to a 100 word Parody challenge on Momspresso, but it's actually a heartfelt prayer.

Where the mind is without fear,

 of a virus lurking around,

Where breath is free

and masks no longer abound;

Where we can travel and greet,

friends and strangers without fear;

Where we no longer reason over

how to sanitize the sanitizer;

Where we get breaks from dreary routine,

the house help comes every day,

Where we can step out of domestic walls,

and children go out to play;

Where a cough or sniffle does not

set alarm bells ringing;

Where being positive is

again a good thing;

Into that heaven of old normalcy,

my Father, let the world awake.

Image by Quang Le from Pixabay

Week 25: InVerse

 

This week too was like the ones before.

The caseload increased even more.

With no controls in place and no cure;

there are no facts to reassure.

People are braver than ever before,

Since for safety they cannot be sure;

they have decided to just ignore,

the danger till it abates on it’s own.

They are hungry, tired or plain bored.

They’ve gone back to lives as before

The governments can’t control anymore

So it’s each onto their own,

To do what they can to ensure,

Safety for themselves and their home.

And to hold on to prayers and hope.

Across the Bridge: InVerse

I long so much to go, across that bridge.

I can’t see much, because of the mist,

But I know it has to be better than this.

A world of peace, love and bliss.

Freedom from the struggle here,

full of hatred, stress and fear.

The sun dips low into the gloom

I leave as darkness begins to loom,

A new day begins on that shore.

I start walking, with new hope.

Dawn breaks and the mist drifts apart,

I look ahead, leaving behind the past.

I see another woman, beyond the stream,

Walking across, with the very same dream.

Crocheting Words: InVerse

 

Early this month, I had to send a dozen Rakhis. Usually this is a mini shopping-expedition for me. But this time I didn't want to step out.Thanks to YouTube and lots of left over yarn I managed to crochet some decent Rakhis in tiny pockets of time. 

That made me attempt the same thing with words-writing in the small pockets of time I can sneak out with just a hundred words to go. That’s all I can do to keep alive my favourite song, given the reality.

I too have a dream, a fantasy;

It gets stolen by reality.

It is that which takes control,

As I try to manage the home,

To juggle with office meetings

And all the tasks in between.

To struggle with family time,

And get a bit that’s mine.

I work harder, the dream I stall.

But still fail to do it all

Fatigue then begins to creep,

and I can’t help falling asleep.

The dream is cancelled for today

But I will get back to it one day

That’s a promise, or perhaps a fantasy.

For now, I cope with reality.