DEDICATION

There are people who indulge your crazy, and there are people who understand your crazy. 

But there are those once in a lifetime people who actually nurture your crazy and make you grow like nothing else can.

I dedicate this book to the ones who make crazy seem like the sanest thing in the world.

You are precious....

MS

14th February 2016

In the no man's land, between night and light, I stand at the edge of the breaking dawn, watching the world turn turtle. Things seem different right now.....the universe is still. Not a flutter of breath from the breeze. It is an anticipatory calm....as if everything is poised at a precipice, ready to take a leap into the other world. 

What do we carry there....into the unknown realms of the new day.....nothing but our dreams and enough insanity to believe that they can come true! 

Dreams are all there is, the link between the night and the morn, and the crazy hope that you will not fail to meet me on the other side.....and my unshakable faith always paints you alive, every time I cross the invisible lines of the yin and the yang..... 

My pen goes into a frenzy......

MS

21st February 2016

Some say it is sadness that makes a poet write. Some may think it is happiness.

For me, too much sad or happy makes me lose my words....they get lost in the river of emotion that flows. 

It is when either the happy or the sad has had the time to soak in, when the fires have raged and what remains are the warm glowing embers that don't singe, but just wash me in the afterglow of the melange of feelings, it is then that I sit beside that waning fire in the middle of the forest of my tears and smiles that I begin to speak to you. That's when I say to you things that even I don't understand, but they make perfect sense to you. That's when my poetry breathes life into thoughts that tangle with your soul.....you are my immortal muse and I am your blotch of ink on the canvas of my blank leaves.

MS

20th March 2016

I don't know what I am looking for. I don't even know that I am looking. 

But my steps pause when I reach your tree. A wisp reaches out and curls around my wrist. 

Its ethereal gossamer touch chains me. The decision is out of my hands. I begin to pour my soul into my ink for all the world to see.....but your wisp....it still remains a mystery!

I am drawn to explore the intimate worlds of souls. It implores me to listen to your soundless music. It forces me to make words for your wordless poetry.

MS

27th March 2016

Misty morning...hazy sunshine.....crisp cool air

It’s a beautiful day in the making. But there's something missing here. Something I can't put my finger on....

But then beauty is always more touching when it is tinged with a little sadness.

It is then that you come along to make the sun shine a little brighter...the mist a little lighter.....and the ink spills....

MS

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Thank You For Reading. 

I hope you enjoyed it!