For The Muses

Time and again
you mirrored my curiosity,
pushed my pen, spun phrases
for a silent immersion in verse.

Melodies I searched for
and reflective moments.

But my dear
the values and the elements
one is asked to live with
amidst a world of contours.

To compose a song
In the wilderness
Among jarring voices, not knowing
What is music, what is noise.

Distant faces smile at me from the void.
I am unable to climb to the shrine of the Muses
on my bruised feet.

Far Away

Distanced.
Perhaps by places
not time
for I bet you think of when I think of you.

Distanced.
Perhaps then by people
not places,
for you reside within me.

Distanced.
Perhaps then many be by souls
not people,
for I see none but you, even in a crowd.

Distanced.
Perhaps then, may be [is it?] by ourselves
not souls,
for what else was that concept of soul mate?

Distanced.
Yes, painfully and surely by ourselves
Me and you from ‘us’

I knew it [did I?] and yet as usual never
Let go of a single chance to think of you
as mine,
as always….