Quick People have their own lives, Updates become tedious due, Death cuts down all time, Then time must move on, too. Offers of help get quieter, (Thankfully in a way): Emotions surge for moments They’ve no intention to stay. In the end, it’s always you, While everyone falls asleep; You lie awake and breathe And dread to dream too deep.

I met someone recently—someone I’d spoken to online—at a party I attended not long ago. In person, though, something felt immediately off. Not because of chemistry or the lack of it, but because of an almost compulsive need he seemed to have: to look down on everything around him. The party wasn’t good enough. The music wasn’t up to the mark. The people weren’t interesting enough. Nothing…

The darkness – I had thought – was spent!But fool me, fool me, it returns!The cold seeps so deep in my bones,From within a crackling pyre burns! Disillusionment derides hope;The cold wasn’t something to defeat…Life burgeons in its anguish,I can’t run and I can’t retreat. So I walk. Look around and see.What I’m left, what is left to me.I use the light breaking my bones;I pay full price, I have…

I’ve lived fifty years now. And lately, I find myself drifting gently—sometimes with longing, sometimes with quiet acceptance—into the soft interiors of my past. Rooms, trees, dogs, balconies. I don’t just remember—I love my past. It comes in flashes. Sitting in goodie Pua’s room, which once was mine. Me on the floor, a book in hand, staring out at a distant building, the same building I used to…

This Wednesday, I turn fifty. Fifty years on this planet. Five whole decades of living, loving, losing, and learning. It feels both like the blink of an eye and an eternity. I still remember that child. The little boy who used to come home with fifteen comic books from the library — Richie Rich and Archie comics tucked under one arm — rushing to the hall sofa, just in time for the setting sun…

In my family, religion has never been a matter of compulsion, inheritance, or rigid tradition. It has been a deeply personal and often private path—respected, explored, questioned, and above all, lived with empathy. We are a family not bound by sameness, but knitted together by love, resilience, and the shared grace of accepting each other as we are. The generation before mine taught me this…

Toothaches are rare –Like heartbreaks,In relationshipsOne needs to care:Brush and floss(Twice daily)So the ache stays away. But when care is lost –Teeth fester.Often, an extractionIs the only wayTo stop infection.

I have lost the will to rhyme,I have no hurt left to give;I have given up on time,Besides the will to forgive. The questions don’t linger now,For I know my self quite well:It’s seldom I break a vow,Though I have no soul to sell. Death does not loom, not for me,It is a known song I sing,It’s just that the notes aren’t free,So I fear a suffering. I have lost and I have gained,Like fat that comes…