Category Archives: Travel

A traveler’s muse

In city, my heart was spread so thin that I wasn’t feeling much of anything.
But there on the cliffs, I realized I was near the end.
My heart swelled and then hurt.

A traveler.
Another city.
A fresh chapter begins.
A new community ebbs and flows around.

It’s people.
Their dreams. And hopes.
The strains of Mozart’s music swim in the air,
Gliding through countryside’s many cafes,
Glistening shores where children play,
Cobbled streets, merging with the silhouette of the 0ld fort.

Time rolls.

Then the new friend became a speck on horizon,
The traveler felt a familiar sadness.

Not a story of enemies.
Not a story of friends.
Just a story of strangers, with some memories.

You know a time when you seek happiness, truth?

Not because you’re lost.
But you’re closer to where you’re meant to be.
That time, you’ll be, your own sun.
You’ll know that you’re made up of sunlight, thunder and fireworks.

No matter how far you travel, you can never run away from home.

You’ve got — roots of innovation and wings of imagination!
Let them grow.


“This is a not-so-obligatory present, wrapped up in 500 words.”
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Soulful Travel

Wanderlust
(n.) An irresistible desire to travel to understand one’s very existence

Why do you travel?
Yes, I travel.
To follow the echo,
Of millions of souls I pass by.

Don’t you travel?
We all do.
To soothe the longing ache,
Of your never ending wanderlust.

Day after day, day after day,
To cross seas and rivers
To see the majestic ocean,
Lying idle on the face of earth,
As if admiring the sky.

We bump each other.
Cross paths,
Heading to the same place,
But taking different routes.

Beautiful memories. Summers. Winters.
Grand feasts, gaily dances.
Weaving together, the tapestry of life.
Painting together, the kaleidoscope of sky.

Creating harmonious symphonies,
We leave our shadows behind.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep.
~Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

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And, Did you ever smell a memory?
If no check this blog post and many more!

Summers : The Book Of Hope

Summer is here again. Summer, summer, summer! Who doesn’t love summers?
Summers have a logic of their own and they always brought something out in you. Summer was supposed to be about freedom, fun, adventure and leisure.  What’s good about summer is it’s warmth , but one can never realize it without the cold of the winter. If we never had winters, summers would just be  an illusion like the moon lady’s love. Or when you are too tired to carry on, summer’s sunshine bring life to earth. Sun is the best thing to happen to earth I must say.

Hafiz said, 
“Even
After
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,

“You owe me.”

Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky.”

One always remembers one of those summers which, in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, delightful friends and delightful doing, come as near to perfection as anything can come in this world.

“Green was the silence, wet was the light,
the month of June trembled like a butterfly.”
Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

So summers is a book of hope. Each day we had more light to read by. Summers makes one want to believe.  But hope is dangerous thing my friends, it can drive one crazy. But faith is sweet, as sweet as the first summer rain.

And so with the sunshine and the blue sky, and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees,  butterflies and chirping birdies, and the breeze, I believe life was beginning over and over again with the summer.

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The One That Got Away.

Close some doors.
Not because of pride.
Incapacity or ignorance.
Or arrogance.

But simply because,
They no longer lead
Somewhere.

Alexithymia
(n.) An inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner

Every word has a meaning. Every silence too.
Words, in their most explicit form, is the best way to express magic!
So, I fall in love everyday,
With ideas and sensations,
With places I’ve never been,
With people I never met.
I hold them long enough to let them go,
But I keep them in my heart
and in my soul.

But she would rather walk alone in darkness than follow anyone else’s shadow.
The Moon Lady
but somethings never change;
like that feeling you get when you haven’t seen someone for sometime now.
like that feeling of two people starting right where they left off.
And then, somethings do change like those two people growing further apart,
But also remembering the little things,
The little similarities that string them back together,
as if nothing ever happened or as if nothing ever drifted them apart.
Or parting them once again, pretending the unfolding of truth between people, who once knew each-other,
who stayed between lines together.
That day you’ll feel sad without knowing why.
Like you lost something precious but forgot what it was,
How hard you may try to remember? 

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