The mornings that are spent sleeping
As if no worries ever touch me,
Or the sleepless nights that pass by
When thoughts won’t let me sleep.
The songs, the joys and the laughs
When I am lost in a crowd,
Or the solemn poems I write
In the loneliness of the night.
I sometimes wonder which is the real me
But isn’t reality just a mirage?
The moment I get a glimpse of myself,
The vision is lost, forever.
TIFR, Mumbai
May 2008.
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