Dark Adapt

Seven billion, and counting
All we need...is one.
The supposed crowds promise company
But at the end of the day,
It's just you.
Just you and the darkness.
The night sky toys with irony,
Displaying the elaborate array of stars,
but even it knows
It's true disconnect with its predictable,
yet temporary residents.
Although we adapt to this..
this daily darkness,
We know somewhere deep inside,
That after night, comes day
And that day, may just bring us...
That one.

Hometown

Once a roaring bustle, now a mere hush.
Honking cars and crowds to years of silence.
Strange consonance, this life.
It's lessons come with time,
But the tests come before.
The sounds of tradition strike chord after chord,
note after note of the similar, melodious tune.
But the heart never seems to have had enough.
One more time, it says. Just one more.
Tabla and sitar in perfect harmony,
not missing a beat, and yet...
signaling at the dissonant emptiness
of life across the sea.
The fulfillment is gone.
The roaring bustle...was once home.

Dance

The liquidity that is dance,
an honest expression of the soul.
To let yourself go and feel the rhythm
effortlessly move your body..
vocalizes the fiery life that is you,
waiting to be heard, waiting to be seen.
To feel the air touch every part of you,
inside and out,
the words spoken by your feet,
sometimes in passion,
sometimes aggression.
The liberation tasted by occupying the spaces,
the big, bold steps that say:
I'm intrepid.
This liquidity...that is dance.