New Monday, New Me.

Oh it was Monday today, wasn't it?

I was supposed to be someone else today.

Well, not just today -

starting from today.

Lists had been made,

forgiveness had been scheduled,

retributions annulled,

slander and gossip shelved.

Even the date circled on the calendar.

But you know how it is.

There's tending to bread

(the money kind),

the tending to the missus,

tending to the stomach,

tending to societal expectations,

and of course, the most crucial

one for the journey that was supposed to have begun today -

tending to self.

But tending to self

might have just figured

as a thin slice on the pie

I presented today morning.

The brain argues - "it was Monday!"

"So what? Doesn't mean you do what you always do!" says the heart-

"I need more control to kickstart our journey."

"Fine!" says the brain.

So, how many is that now?

I think I just hit number ten on the case

of the failures of the New Monday, New Me.

Next Monday it is then, where's that damn calendar?

Thanks Dwight

I will imagine

your first name must be Rain

your last name must be Bow.

And if that's the case,

your namesake is

a man who plays 

someone on a show,

someone, who is

the very antithesis 

of what you signify-

promise and hope and joy

with your colors and all of that.

Rainn Wilson,

better known as Dwight Schrute

in The Office,

bears your name and is responsible 

for so much laughter and joy in the world

much like you and very unlike Dwight.

Q&A

At the cost of repetition,

I would like to remind you

that you still need to answer

my questions in detail.

Yes, you may write them down,

you may shout them out,

you may send me a text,

you may set up a billboard.

But the answers are required.

You perch atop a tree

out of reach from everyone,

appearing venerable

but I know your truth.

You hide behind copious inconspicuousness

But I see you and I don't slack.

Should I climb up to you?

Would you like your space be invaded?

Sea

Sea shores.

Sea sides. 

Sea beaches.

Sea fronts.

Sea.

Salt.

Bird cries.

Horizons.

Warmth.

Roughness and chaos 

that transcend into serenity.

Where we often end up-

to start,

to restart,

to end,

to aid our journeys.

For peace,

for fury,

for guilt,

for resentment,

for fun,

for nonchalance,

for ambiguity,

for sleep that is cocooned

in the kindred tranquility

of the womb.

Remember

Remember how we were a year ago?

You and me, spread over a bed

yearning for the waves and cocktails.

We had plans, you and me,

of love, of fright, of patience and surprises.

My hands caressed the mounds of your breasts,

you toyed with my hair;

how seemingly infinite some moments are.

You giggled hoarsely,

worn out from lovemaking,

and smacked my hand away.

Remember how we were yesterday?

You and me, concerned about the love.

I sat by the window,

you sat on the bed,

gulping in the silence,

unable to find words

to fill the void of patience.

Disparity

Didn't you eat a whole plate of food?

I could just eat some salt.

Didn't you smile at the end of the meal?

I was bitter and hungry.

Didn't your mother cook you the food?

Mine wasn't around.

Didn't your father get all the groceries?

My dad was broke by the 15th.

Weren't you angry the ice cream was finished?

I could at least get a large gulp of water.

And then you said, 

"Oh, you're sitting on a chair?"

Mediocrity And Its Weight

Mediocrity truly has no merit

despite any advances its makes;

it is progress that lacks accountability.

It ends with being distraught and jealous,

with anger and insecurity.

Yet the one who carries it knows its weight,

the one who carries it knows there's no time

to dial back and make progress with the truth;

the world has moved on.

To fail and succeed 

doesn't come easily to the average.

There are no lessons to be learnt,

no wisdom to be imbibed,

no hills and valleys,

no corners to turn.

One can look ahead for miles and look back for miles

and the scenery remains the same;

sunshine and rainbows,

never the rain or the pot of gold.