Golden Light

Verses flit across my mind's eye like impatient moths around light; moths that will eventually die. And for this reason alone, I should be writing more often.

So here are a few brief lines, hurried and unhurried at the same time.


Is it me you've painted on the frosted glass?
On your empty sheets,
And their cacophonous screams?
Is it me in the blankness
And pallor of your canvas?

Why do you see me not?

Even if I stood on a patch of freckled sunlight
It is my shadow that would hurt your eye.


Today is also India's Independence day. As an independent nation, the country is now 61 years old.