I used to have a ritual.
Of gathering thoughts
and polishing hopes.
I would pick a thought up
and then, a hope.
One by one,
I would ascertain
their worth.
If they passed muster,
I would take them along.

Long before I grew up,
I knew –
I had to invest –
in silence.
To bring forth
from the corners of memory –
all that has been;
and from a vague image
of a distant self –
all that should be.

I had an inkling –
that it was in stillness,
that time bridged
the distance
between the past
and the future;
That it was in silence
that the true reverberations
of the self were felt.

But somewhere between childhood and here,
the ritual receded
into a shelf
of long discarded things.
But once in a while when I stand still,
I can hear
the thud of innocence
against walls of reason.

Once in a while when I stand still,
I can yet freeze time
and rewrite my days
as if I were –
the master of my time.

Ambiguous definitions

I have been looking for a word,
Ever since I glanced
In a mirror
And found you.
A word to explain,
To categorize – Us.

I was sure there was one –
Long forgotten, unused.
I have fancied, it was
Looking for us;
Trying to reclaim
Its place
In a world – Of acronyms
and ties – shallow and crude.

Ambiguity presented itself.
I shoved it aside.
The reflection never lacked
For clarity, I thought.
But now –
After all this while,
I think it is – a fine word for us –
Haven’t we been
In ambiguities – all along?
Ambiguity is us-
Our truths, wants and all.
Us – It exists and it does not.