Thoughts

They ride along aimlessly
Train of thoughts remain seamless
Unless bound by emotion

Mirrors

Beautiful faces, glistening milieus
All things nice and shiny
Hexed mirrors, twisted reality

Yearning

I've been bestowed with a fair share of academic titles and professional designations. The one that continues to elude me - and which I cherish most of all - is that of being a 'writer'. My family and close friends indulge me at times. When I urge them to critique my writing they don't shy away from lavishing praise.

"You've got such refined writing skills" 
"This piece is comparable with the work of the best its genre"
"You're sure to win the first prize if you submit this for a competition"
"You're such a gifted writer!"

Their compliments are genuine, emotions heartfelt and love unconditional. It was this form of encouragement from an early age that egged me on. I acknowledge them humbly, albeit with a pinch of salt.

Alter ego

He flirts with me all the time
Helps me satiate my need to write
Keeps me ticking 
And preserves my sanity.

He also annoys me
Poking fun at my desperation
Provokes me to accept mediocrity
Mocks me till I take short cuts.

I know he's just trying to reach out
Nudging me to follow my heart
Deep within the confines of my being, 
I know there is a writer aching to break out;
Shrouded in my fear of the unknown, 
he lends dignity to my servile existence.

Dignity

When going gets tough
And the cosmos plays hardball
Don't sacrifice your dignity

Time

It's​ just a fantasy
Time stands still for none
But imagination takes flight

Travel

Time becomes a mirage
Day and night wither away
When travel bug bites