Street Art

the ringing in my ears echoes your unuttered words;

the hesitantly lingering petals of yesterdays throngs;

the gaps between undecided moments infect my ears,

in which street would I find the cure for this relentless pain?

I have left a part of me somewhere back in dark;

no, please don’t let anybody seek her or ask

for I have kept her a child so mute and unerringly meek;

she won’t make out anything you would like to hear,

will there be any messiah who can read eyes for cloud-like thoughts?

the hesitant winter here struggles with a stubborn sun;

the ringing in my ears succumbs to words in my eyes;

I am all, all those who could never speak, decide and step out;

and my thoughts are cloud like; they carry rain, river and ocean;

let me paint the streets, write on roads and spill it everywhere

for every mind counts, every tear and every untold struggle

and yet before I spill, the I, the all, yes before I spill I bow to the pain

for I am not going to paint you but the spark inside you

and to write the wings inside you, the beauty of your silence---

                                             oh pain, spread smiles…

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