light falls from window
I read nature on my floor
hear birds whisper



I am brimming with emotion
don’t ask me
the colour of its shades
when I try to hold
examine and name it
its shape mutates
and the colour fades

I request the time
to hold its hurry
not to speed

let me caress my wound
let me weed
out the shrapnels
the extent of my injury

but the time moves on
pressing hard
the cave in my heart


Aloof, we all mingle, form a machine,
Our touch steely and cold, oiled and sheen.

Electrically charged magnetism works,
We are bound together, nobody shirks.

Tightened with nuts and bolts together,
It is the purpose predefined that holds together.

Highly precarious, it can catch a fire,
If any willful passion amongst us emerges
– Obviously, an outlier.


our “craving for pioneering”
can make us primitive, medieval too?
longing for the days gone by
when our body and soul rested in balance
when hands held stones
threw with will and capacity
small ripples that they made
in the seasonal pool was far more rejoicing
than the trained dip in a polished waterbody
– Archimedes dancing naked and free
and Newton on a wasting apples spree

but were body and soul really ever in balance?
isn’t that inertia?
craving is not being
being inertia
craving is what destroys it
and leads to becoming
it is an urge to balance
not balance itself
that defines the human pioneer

it’s a producer’s craving
not gluttony


“The thing called Medievalism shows a craving for pioneering. To be sure, the direction in which that craving turns itself is toward Earth itself, which is near and which has the precedent of a great past. But the vision of worlds beyond is a similar something and the romantic can turn to it easily….” (Daneel Olivaw in Isaac Asimov’s The Caves of Steel)