Guari Dixit writes

Songs

Will you sing my song

On those nights long

When sleep keeps away

And far is the day

The dark is in its prime

And winds play rhyme

Your own shadow scares you

Darker than midnight blue

Will you sing my song

With your voice so strong

Let it pierce through the years

To bring back my tears

Let dry eyes be wet

Like the last time we met

My loneliness will get a companion

Of the waning Moon hanging by the aging banyan

Will you sing my song

Louder than the gong

Let my story be told

Alike to young and old

They may forget my name

But you will get the fame

The man with a golden voice

In his songs the world rejoiced

Guari Dixit writes

Scattered

We browse through people
like they are just profiles
picking a few
for a few days
and then again
when providence/analytics chooses
to bring them
to our notice.
We don't even part ways
these days.
Our lives are tapestries
of temporary, unfinished people.

Portrait of Francis Bacon -- Lucian Freud

Guari Dixit writes

Invisible

Let me don a cloak of invisibility 

that which makes me invisible to others. 

Even if they see me 

they will see me 

as a part of the landscape 

or as a part of themselves. 

The wallflower 

that was always there 

blending into the background, 

the chameleon 

that is the leaf 

on the ground. 

Nothing out of ordinary - 

a raindrop 

on a rainy day 

dissipating in the mind, 

the fallen lash 

that grants a wish 

when blown in the wind. 

This cloak is a useful thing 

keeps me 

from getting plucked away 

being put into a vase till I wither, 

or becoming an exhibit 

in the museum of anomalies, 

an item in the miscellaneous bucket 

with low/no priority, 

getting relegated to the freak show 

because 

I am not able to go with the flow.

How do I become invisible to myself though? 

Where is the cloak 

that makes me part of you 

with blended colours 

and not the blue?

 

 L'homme invisible (The Invisible Man) -- Salvador Dali