The state of affairs at my end is just like a maze
Running in circles and never listening to what the Gita says
Every morning the world outside contradicts the world within
Its nice and sunny out in the open, inside its all dark and grim
The pigeon visits me every morn and I don't know why it sits on the window pane
I shoo him and it flies in the open sky only to return the next morning again
The mind is working overtime and there is enough already to keep it busy
I never thought he was dying but there was always some disparity in my opinions making it appear hazy
Picture in a picture is what these eyes have always noticed
Somehow this talent never did any good but simply had me worried
During my childhood I would guard the soap bubbles and pray every second to God not to burst them,
But like all those sweet dreams, not a single one of it lasted
Being laughed upon by people around doesn't hurt as much as laughing at the mirror
I 'm waiting for the day when this mist of sadness dissolves into the heavens and with Krishna I can compeer.
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