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Shimoga, Karnataka, India

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the stars the skies and the sunny blues



Cantering along those bristly hours

step ashore on the verge of a new day.

Just an another passing hour

hustling through the annals of time.

Of times submerged in those pacific blues

of a simmering blue staving off the buoyant surge.

A condor that knows no moral restraint

on a tireless flight across a stretch endless

lapping up the warmth of the mushy seas

still lost hopelessly in the depth of those ravines.

Cradles the crest ,and the tuft smothers.

Drifts on, a timeless knot of oceans

lost forever in those saga of blues.

Every day, a sojourn starts anew.

An ascent that knows no depths.

Times when, hopes overwhelm destiny.

Hope is, when a necessary evil

sees a divine light in the dark.

When light is a harbinger to a reticent darkness.

Rekindles, the once dying flame.

Dusk is, when the sun meets its waterloo.

When the streak in splendour

makes way to those lengthening shadow

that sail on waters perceptionally different.

Dusk is, when the sinking sun

makes headway the morn after.

When the simmering tides shrug off

clutches of uncertainty haunting the pristine blues.

Oh! Just an another tedious passing hour

heralds the dawn of blues defiantly different.

Speak of such clear skies

when the grey dare’nt wipe out the blues..