MY OVERTURES

Moving down the lane One to the right,after a long walk Other a four minutes ride, I pass by on my holiday mornings And many more spread around the city Created a symphony of peace and rite A house of worship; pious and serene Holding on our believes and trust in lord. A place always looked forward to, When seeking some answers Or sanity of the master. A citadel for my refuge When master heralds a storm. Defeating down the enemies, The place was my wonderland. But drifting with time, I can now see the shadows Outside the fortress, Pleading for help and mercy From the wounded souls Eyes with a spirit of hope long gone I hear no symphony, No one to hold their believes and trust Just a stillness of stationary lives Caught on fragile boats, Amid a huge ocean Waves Rattling the base Taking them no closer to the shore I feel no peace, But a riot of injustice These boundaries create, And find these visits nothing But de

‘Fishing the cobwebs’ would have suited the title more, looking at my state of mind; and that’s how it functions, keeps rolling in the past back and forth, place to place. But the very idea of absurdity of this phrase brings me here. Cobwebs signify old, gone by things, memories; a net we tend to get trapped in. In all this, a bizarre thought of bunnies brings me to my teddy looking at me with a sweet smile, which I know would never fade; this look, that would ever change and the little heart it holds wishing me birthday, who I know would say nothing but “Happy Birthday”, no longer makes this thought bizarre but a reminder of all the good things in life, all the love and affection I share, all the comfort I enjoy, the good deeds I did, the beautiful flowers in the vase, the little kids running on the street, the sunshine, beauty of the full moon I saw last night, the refreshing fragrance of the damp earth, the mischiefs that made mom frown and then smile at me; the worries and anxiet