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Who am I?
How am I?
What am I doing here?

I am not my thoughts,
I am not my feelings,
I am not my mind.

I am a free soul,
I am a poet,
with a sharpened quill,
I am your mirror,
I am your wake-up call.

I write poetry,
stirring your soul,
confronting you with life,
waking you up from sleep.

I am calm,
I am joy,
I am peace,
I am love,
the food that nourishes the soul.

I enter carefully,
I step in slowly,
through the dark corridors,
where you never dared to go.

I do not come to destroy,
I do not come to harm,
rather,
I come to heal.

Let us listen to the silence,
quiet our minds,
and let our hearts speak.
Art is living,
art is healing,
art is thinking.

Art is showing our essence,
in every stage of life,
in our own unique way.

Art is expression,
of the inner self,
of the emotional realm.

Art is emotions,
it is feelings,
something profound,
something free of mediocrity.

Art is loving,
kissing,
and caring.

Art is fighting through life,
facing the bad,
embracing the good,
and cherishing it all.

Art is your parents,
who cared for you
and gave you unconditional love.

Art is music,
those two notes
that make your heart burn with passion.

Art is walking through life,
grateful,
smiling,
without greed.

What is your art?
Art is the most powerful way in the world to reveal realities and express emotions—
emotions that others can interpret and feel.
We all create art in every action we take.
Lalit Kumar Mar 2
I am still searching, lost in the silent hum,
For one who sees the world as more than just what—
Who wanders, unhurried, through the creatures' breath,
Who feels the pulse of the earth and its depth.

I seek the one who wonders at the moon’s silent gaze,
At the stars that flicker with ancient, untold ways.
A soul who listens to rivers, whose stories unfold,
In the whispers of waters, in the stories they hold.

Not just the grand, but the minute and small—
The flutter of wings, the rise and the fall.
Who sees the beauty in the dust of the earth,
And finds meaning in silence, in sorrow, in birth.

I search for the one who stands still in the crowd,
Who sees the truth in the noise, the faces unbowed.
Who feels the weight of the dark in the light,
And finds peace in the silence, in the stillness of night.

I long for a heart that knows both pain and grace,
That has touched the stars and been lost in the space.
For one who will ponder, who will never be still—
Who questions the world with a mind that can feel.

For I am not seeking a lover or friend,
But a kindred soul, whose thoughts never end.
Someone who embraces both the quiet and loud,
Who lives in the wonder, in the space between crowds.

I am still searching, with my heart in the air—
For the one who will feel, the one who will care.
The one who will wonder, who sees the divine,
In the folds of the cosmos, in the soul’s endless climb.
Midnight Zoomies Oct 2024
In distant silence, an ache lingers like a forgotten song,
a haunting melody that echoes through
the hollows of an empty home.

Each separation,
a poignant note in the music of longing.
The desire to convey the depth of absence becomes restrained vulnerability where a heart yearns for more than routine inquiries—
a connection that transcends the ordinary.

Yet, in the vast expanse,
the unspoken lingers as a melancholic language,
a narrative of desire and restraint.

Frustration emerges from unmet desires,
a delicate dance where the fear of vulnerability clashes
with the yearning for profound connection.

Silently, the heart navigates the surface,
resisting the urge to delve into the intricacies of emotions.

Now, a choice is made to reveal little,
to traverse the silence with a delicate grace,
as the unexpressed yearns to be heard in the still expanse.
Aching in the silence of unspoken words, I found myself longing for something deeper—something more than surface conversations. The weight of what wasn’t said pressed heavy, leaving me wondering if I was the only one who felt it. In the quiet space between us, I yearned for a connection that never came. Feeling distant while wanting to be seen.

— The End —