Carpe Diem

She has gone so far Even so, I know she's here She is said to have become a star Still, I know she cares. stretched apart in between here and there I know loved ones don't disappear so I know she's still here but I also wonder, where? I can't feel her warmth,  and her hands aren't caressing my hair.  I want to hold her, but she isn't here. love is just not about being here It is everlasting and exists beyond  life and death's sphere yet she is not here. I can't hear her although she's in my heart but I cannot see her anymore I don't know when I'll see her again and her old white hair I'm not sure if it'll be in my next birth  or after death up there. I know you're here, Grandma,  but you're not simply here. ascetic or austere  my soul gets nudges here and there,  with this quiet noise that is burning inside of me, leaving my eyes in tears yet I'll keep going with a non-healing fright  in agony, uncertainty, and despair wit...

I was sitting beside, in the blues. Looking at her watery eyes, storm inside veiled With blue hues. Longing to hear my name called up in a trice, Not her, but her breath; she was departing, told her agonal breath. Memories, questions, confusion with every rise and fall of her surging breath gap. Her love for me is eternal but she has to leave, told her hand on my lap. Gasps, pause, rattle gasps, pause, and the final sigh. . . . O! My grandmother was gone leaving  the loudest silence behind. A part of her is alive in me like Noah and the dove. There is nothing like death, prompted  her undying love. I feel her more now than ever before. For her soul has transcended the limitations of the body and core. In another life, resting at god's feet. I feel her presence in every heartbeat, lingering on the ground, in the sky One day I will meet her; So never said Goodbye...

Calling up my name, with charisma on her face. I've returned from school, was her moment of the day . Caressing  my hair with her tender hands she enjoyed. I'd never leap into the whirlwind, mumbled all the time as she prayed. Lying down next to me, telling stories of her old days , I had seen her smitten with beauty , love and grace. Love of both mother and father , conjointly she adored and cared. I had seen her sullen, when I was scolded or dared. Years  went by O! My grandmother got sick-old and white-haired . Thin and bemused in the evening of life, now she behaves like a baby bairn She has so much of me in her heart, expresses her pale face. Bit by bit she is losing consciousness of anything that comes into place. In her own world now, wandering frailly in a daze, she seeks me in the haze, to call up my name with the same charisma on her face.

and perhaps he was a blithesome I don't know him now cause perchance he turned sulky . . and maybe he loved her in another life  where there was no measurement of time maybe in space with no pars , with no pars he chased his moon in the dusk dawn and noon . .  and maybe on his way to moon, he lost many clouds and birds , many warns and morns he lost for the passion to have her  he never wanted it to frost . .  and maybe he was belittled the way he was portrayed, but his excruciating love memoir wasn't a masquerade .  now he doesn't say much at all, maybe no one was there when he used to bawl . . and maybe somewhere on the other side he found her or maybe she has always been in his subconscious, nudging him this way and dragging him that way  until some way or the other he found her . .  and maybe he doesn't know,  but he does know he has felt her  more ...

Oh god! Thy Games, thy world is set on Crames. No man here is a Barter, he spends most of his life chasing the almighty Dollars. The poor has no zest and Thrill, dominions here are as phony as a Three dollar bill. Ah!  my aching heart can't handle this misery, No love and spark in relations,  everyone is running in the race to achieve ovations. Give an arm and a leg to thy needy world.. Oh god!  Thy games,  thy world is set on crames.