His home—one day he realized
was just a house.
To his fatal belief,
happiness awaited him somewhere else.
'Mama, I must leave. Goodbye.'

'Son, what will I do without you?
Don't you just say goodbye'
The old damsel, pitied by everybody,
drowned in distress.
Such a bad man!
How could he leave his mother like that?

The bad man found love soon after.
When the affair made him sad,
he remembered yet again:
'Happiness awaits me somewhere else!'
'Love, I must leave. Goodbye.'

Love died for her.
She, unable to find joy,
frowned all day,
never said goodbye.

He ran around
from door to door,
valley to downtown,
fleeing every place
that made him blue.
The bad man did well
until the day
he met bad men.

"Give us all that you have."
The bad men hit him,
hurt him, made him sad.
"Kill me! Kill me!
I have nothing to give,
for I have left everything”

— fyonlila

What remains of your rhythm
fashions my time, my life,
I search for signs and clues.
And I turn the radio on.

They saw a frail flower
plucked it, to own it
and it died in their arms.
A cautionary tale,
A castle, never rebuilt;
A legacy transcending the wake.

Purple-pink pastel hues…
And I look up to you,
at the stars,
I dream of yellow skies-
that will give light,
to more women like you.

How I wish I were a woman like you.

— fyonlila

You’ll never leave,
so you will now bury me.
While I sit quietly and weave
the tapestry of this unending time,
I will watch you watch me wither.
I pray to God you drop the leash.
You bury me.

One last time, you adorn my cemetery
with flowers yellow like that dusk
when I said I know you want to leave,
and you said it's just a bad dream.
Until then, owner of my dreams,
I will make your proses rhyme.

Seen those eyes before,
some few years back,
staring at my reflection,
puddles of a muddy ground.
I walked when I almost had it all,
some day in a July long gone.
You wrote us into a song.
So this one ends when it ends...

— fyonlila

Take me with you.
I know you have it in you.
God made you;
He made me too.

I want to flow
with the cold water,
run down with
the rushing rivers.
I want to float
with the clouds

Oh God’s blue blue sky
Don’t you see how unfair it is to me
to be stuck to the ground?

Let me flow with the rivers.
Let me float with the clouds.

I don’t know anything mythical.
All I know:
my heaven is on Earth,
Nature — in your cradle.

Save me, oh save me
I kneel down,
I pour down,
I break down.

Clouds, laden with rain — 
they pour down too.
I’m not too different

Let me run to you
Take me in with open arms
Let me be now
Be one with you.

— fyonlila

A trip to my own grave — 
“You seem so happy,” Mummy says.
Dozen years slipped right through,
Like going back to the graveyard,
This special place
Painted a portrait of its children
For a dozen days —

Over the years,
These kids would return,
With new masks and new names,
And place a woeful wreath on their graves.
A graveyard of dreams, The could have beens.

But tonight,
Their worldly clock will lose all hands;
Their worldly petals will refuse bloom.
Fold, will their world, into layers of doom.

With unfaithful remains,
They must cross the Styx.
To never forget, never live — 
Promises, letters, trysts
In its dark waters do all mix.
Echoes the transcendent river:
“Time will be their fix.”

Today, I return to that place
Stand across someone, who with me
Never sailed to the other side.
Stare at walls, stare at that face.
Their eyes, they chime
Tales that I tried to lose in time.

Today I return to those souls
The familiar faces left behind,
No longer yours or mine.
Disillusioned by the falling leaf,
By layers of grief,
Buried in my vernal grave
Are the people who make my place.

After all we charted
our own destinies-
My friend, today we meet
What all I wouldn’t do,
Seas I wouldn’t sail through
To go over all of it once again,
Just again with you tucked beside,
Regardless of the pain.

Will you love?
Have you learned to unlove?

Like going back to the graveyard,” I say,
A place where the gardeners of my spring
Decide my fate.

Clandestine in my prayers,
Backdoors of my mind,
Premature memories linger bright.

Won’t you look into your spinning globe?
Tell me, where my old friend has gone.
The priest knows something I did not
Tell me, what destiny beholds.

“Those that have to, will remain;
You will grow exponentially in their shade.
Those that never did, will show their face;
You will live like wind without their embrace,”
Dear Mummy says…

So love, dearie, love — 
Love it, for you built it.
So love, dearie, love — 
Love it, for you lived it.

— fyonlila & Jayant Dahiya

Won't you look into your spinning globe?
Tell me, where my old friend has gone.
The priest knows something I did not
Tell me, what destiny beholds.

A graveyard of dreams,
The could have beens
After all we charted
our own destinies-
My friend, today we meet
What all I wouldn't do
Seas I wouldn't sail through
to go over all of it once again,
Just again with you tucked beside.

Clandestine in my prayers
Backdoors of my mind,
Premature memories linger
Letters in big block letters
I never wrote to you,
So I search for you.

Won't you look into your spinning globe?
Tell me, where my old friend has gone.
The priest knows something I did not
Tell me, what destiny beholds.

—fyonlila

I survive, I strive to justify
what blazed my heart,
made me clench my fist.
The injustice creeps into my veins
So it seems,
The same has seeped into your brains.

Didn’t ask for my companion’s
Decree, The "could have been"-
A long road we walk alone,
Dreaded lonely path
not yet my biggest fear.
Deaf ears, cautious mouths
I beg of you.
Call off this charade.

Pardon me,
My entitlement to rage,
That I never redeemed.
I must scream into your ears
The ugly words
You do not wish to hear.

Do not ration this passion
Lend me your ear,
I yearn for a lifelong companion.

— fyonlila

Not an earnest goodbye,
This shallow end,
Plastered on it a mirror
Met barely at all, my ocean.
Mistook my depth as your own
Mistranslated your mimicry,
As Requited fidelity.

Fleeting memories,
Knock on my door
And I resign,
Reckless, I realize
What I did not set free
Longing & Love,
Hidden behind my hurt.

Go pick another face,
I’ll write bitter praise
To say the words
You stole from me.
A futile crusade,
To walk away with
the crumbs of grace
you spared, with
All my verses
Gone to waste…

— fyonlila

A window to her life,
You would see
How she lived her teens, daring
How she loved her people, caring
Who knows
If she had a little more time
She could fly to the distant land
The life she never realized.
A garden of her dreams and fancies
Which called her long back in time

Who knows
If she had a little more time
She’d fly to that very distant land
And The fairy would return older
More Wrinkled and pale
With a million more tales to tell

— fyonlila