This Little Prayer I Say

On stormy dark nights,
And new mornings
Busy afternoons,
And scuffling through evenings
I am afraid of
This little prayer I say
In my mind
“If it’s good for me, make it stay
If not, let it go”

My heart wrenches the next moment
As the roads get empty
Paving the storms to build inside
When the prayer gets answered


Enchanted Mirage

Removing from the system,
Bitter truth
That came from the illusionary garden
Created moments ago
In an enchanted mirage
Of a world
That could have been
With you
At the center-stage
Trickery is the personality
Of delusion
Man is not hidden to
Learn he must
To evade the desires
That takes him to the quicksand
Pulling him down under
With every blow he gives back
In a reflex of a fight
He has for himself
When all that is required
Is a let go
Of you
And a fissure
Of the memory created
By the illusion
Better described as