Where does it come from?
Where does it go?

Come, come my boy,
Here we go,
Your chest is stiff, that I know,
The fever insists, and you bow,

See, all those dogs are calm,
Only the barks of dogs from distant valley echoe,
The moon is spilling,
But the night is still cold,
Come, come,
Come in my chest,
Give your hands and put them here,
Let them warm, let them loose,

There, there
there you go,
Look how warm is your breath,
Slow in ease,
Let’s fall asleep, let’s fall asleep;

…

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Sleep was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Have I drifted,
From wills after wills,
Desires after desires,
To sit here in this hollow,
With the meek face of death,
rocking my shoulders;

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Drift was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Hanging memories in their face,
They pass by me,
Passerbys,
Almost a smile for a “Hello”,
I change the shape of my chin,
Inside the mask,

The dusk is slowly calling the night,
As my shadow increases its depth,
Should there be someone to talk with,
Shall this road has been shorter,
Should there be someone to walk with,
Shall this heavy heart has been lighter,
Should there be someone beside,
Shall my stiff shoulders have been loose and easier,

Out of my own forlornness,
I watch everybody’s face,
Pale, green, blue, orange,
And red,
Expecting someone to recognize me,
As a bare human as they’re,
Hundreds walk by,
And I never weave my hands to a single,
Neither anybody,
The night slowly falls,
I remember the small kid, that I smiled after,
I remember the young girl, that I smiled after,
I remember the old man, that I smiled after,
I remember an old aunt, that I smiled after,
I remember a bunch of footballers, that I smiled after,
I remember a bunch of memories that I smiled after,
I remember all of them slowly fading in the foggy city,
And let myself get lost into the alleys of Kathmandu,
Not even knowing that
My shadow in its full depth,
Smiling after me;

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Following Shadow was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In this dripping rain,
I find myself descending,
Into a great hollow,
Without a radius,

Long ago,
I fell with the rain,
And became a seed in this earth,
Until I realized that I’m of this grass and mud,
Insects and snows,

Cold and empty I lay,
With the melancholy of rain,
From which I emerged,
And with which I’m drowning;

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Rain was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

With soothing zephyr
of this warm summer evening,
I listen to the sound of god,
Resonating each petal of coarse grass,
Where we would put our feet,
Without love, without compassion,
Unknown, where the lord is singing;

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Summer Evening was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In your screech,
You would sing
The indecipherable lines of your longing,
What makes you long,
Giving you the very existence,
In this mundane life;

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Screech was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Far away it rains,
And the cold winds,
Blows and whisper
The story of every moor it passed through;

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Spring Winds was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

You walk sideways
Where the leftover shadows of the passerby
Still mingles like a mid-day song that you kept humming,
Passing the shade of pale trees,
You recall the hum of a bee,
Walking with you,

“Long ago, your father said,
When the bee stops to hum in your ear,
You die”

Every alternate road,
You would to take,
Would lead you to the same place,
Grave,

The face of faith,
Slowly transforming itself into death,
All the ocean gather
And wave you with their currents,
Soothing voices of yellow leaves,
Stir your body in the air,

If you would have to leave everything like this,
You would enjoy this short walk
To the Grave,

Now, I know how it’s like
To fly with death,

Next to the small flowers,
I sit,
And become the grave;

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Grave was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In this dark stream,
Your cries lost in its cyclone,
How would you recall the mighty face of hope?
Whom would you remember in your last breath,
That is slowly withdrawing from your chest?

Breathless you sail,
In search of your own life,
The stream getting bigger and bigger,
Each bend of the river you would to pass,

Countless forms rain in your head,
Finally, death gives you a clean bed,
In an azure ocean, a pale body floats,
Like the dead shell,
And in its depth,
A calmness rests;

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Murky evening by the shore was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The damp coarse bones,
Stands rigid in the storm,
In the comings and goings
Of these rain,
embracing the new seed,
While these old trees fall in the ground,
As the spring wind jolt their heart,

Alas, a man I’m,
Full of grief,
In comings and goings
Of every leaf.

For More Of My Writings: Painted With Words

Old Trees was originally published in Painted With Words on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.