Skip to main content

Lend Me Your Dreams

The roads are long and winding, the rails and girders keep going on. The milestones that keep me company seem to go on forever. When I started off years ago, I thought I will conquer the world, I thought I will run these roads down and from where they end, I will build new roads to places unknown.

I wont say that I was wrong, maybe just young and a little foolish. The road seem to be winning and I losing. Maybe if I had you with me, I would have tried a wee bit harder, and lot longer. Lend me your dreams will you? It will help me fuel my run to places I have never been.

Share your dreams with me for then they will become my own. I will have dreams to ride home.

Comments

  1. Rajesh,
    Do you know the American poet Langston Hughes? If not, let me introduce you. I like his writing... and yours.


    Langston Hughes
    What happens to a dream deferred?
    Does it dry up 
like a raisin in the sun? 
Or fester like a sore-- 
And then run? 
Does it stink like rotten meat? 
Or crust and sugar over-- 
like a syrupy sweet?
    Maybe it just sags 
like a heavy load.
    Or does it explode?

    And then this one also by Langston Hughes
    "DREAMS"
by Langston Hughes
    Hold onto dreams
For if dreams die
Life is like a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
    Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hush

You don't have to tell me. I just know. Its that little sniffle that comes through The unexplained pauses The slow responses I know when you call Just because you needed to cry.

That Fluttering of Broken Wings

If you were to cross the road and hurt your toe, I know that I will never know. As we go on to take different roads and move on across different shores, there is something that happens to our relationships. Something that estranges, disconnects, disintegrates. I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive. Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.