prior to a bare dream land,
    with consciousness scarce in hand,
the moment right before sleep,
    appear depictions mind wont keep.

vivid images now unfurled,
    an immense, graphic, real new world,
visions of intricate detail,
    astound endlessly without fail

though this night I value most,
    looking back - it seems a ghost,
is this how the others see?
    given this gift - who could I be?

maybe I had this skill before?
    with this mind, could I be sure?
now to know what I am missing,
    is it a curse or is this a blessing?

" Once upon a pleasant day
  as I continue to describe and say
     I saw a conversation sublime
    so surreal and eternally divine.

      Roaming around the ocean
  of existence and great emotion.
   At the shore,Love and Hate sat together
  as intricacies began to decipher.

Love began her narrations
   citing several of its notions.
   As she narrated her side
  shores of life got washed by tide

   Drenched in the lively waters
  Hate now began narrating her matters
   Carefully she had listened to Love
  as I watched it from Heavens above.

Love spoke of beauty of life
  charming lush fields swaying to fife
  and the exquisite tone that it play
   by the Springs of the month of May.

Hate meanwhile spoke the same
      with tinges of love that she tame.
  The Autumns and Winters whose hues
   whom she owes those gruesome dues.

I witnessed how their judgements
   didn't go through any predicaments.
   Ay! I appear to be thoughtless broke
  as love-hate appeared as same cloak.

I witnessed how their judgements
   didn't go through any predicaments.
   Ay! I appear to be thoughtless broke
  as love-hate appeared as same cloak.

They talked long till eternity
      as infinity appeared a small entity.
    Thinking of uniting, enduring all pain,
      yet knowing it won't happen again.

      And then they both disintegrated
       into fine sands and amalgamated
     into the Ocean of life and existence
     and became parts of life sithence. "

Are there aliens

inside the clouds? Who is there --


rummaging about?

My imagination runs rampant. Images I cannot control. I fear myself. I can't close my eyes or they'll creep inside. These far off lands own me, I'm only a vessel to tell their twisted stories.

The floor is ceiling:

you see a metal flower --


spinning beneath you!

Some people assume and say
they  bring nothing on their birth
and take nothing on their way
when they leave this earth

But I strongly oppose
as  I observed with perception
it isn’t odd as you suppose
and will accept without objection

The soul brings its body
to live as something in this world
either man or a lady
or an animal or a bird

At one day or so
it reaches  its extremity
none can say no
to the wishes of Almighty

From this world of worries
where dooms cannot be stopped
soul from here usually carries
two sacks that can’t be dropped

Good deeds in one sack
and sin in the other
they carry on their back
to the place where all gather

The judgement is given
based on the two sacks
it goes to hell or heaven
from where it again comes back

Thus for sure I say
A soul brings a body on its birth
and takes it’s deeds on its way
when it leaves the earth

A dark clay raven hung at a windowpane
to ward off bright songbirds from glass.
It never spoke a word, nor did it feign
to know of a departed late lass.

I asked it my questions, expecting more
conversation than it had on offer,
but plainly it found me a tedious bore
for it stayed quiet. Not much of a talker.

The brief encounter left me po-faced
as I’d been led to expect more from him.
So I turned away, belying a trace
of disappointment weighing within.

Then I heard the wind, and nothing much else
except the song of birds who’d survived
thanks to the clay raven who hung by a belt
in front of a window to keep it disguised.