कार्मेल #10 (a new series for 2025)

A soul that’s truly free.

She walks beneath the morning sun,

Unaware of how she glows,

Her laughter brighter than the dawn,

A light she never knows.

She hides her dreams in whispered thoughts,

Afraid they’re not enough,

Yet every hope she dares to hold

Is made of stardust stuff.

Her eyes reflect the summer sky,

But she just sees the rain,

Not knowing how her gentle gaze

Can ease another’s pain.

She counts her flaws like falling leaves,

And misses all the rest—

The kindness blooming in her heart,

The courage in her chest.

She moves through life with quiet grace,

A melody unsung,

Not hearing how her presence makes

The world feel safe and young.

If only she could see herself

The way the world can see—

A wonder, rare and beautiful,

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कार्मेल #12 (a new series for 2025)

I don't know how to unlove you. Not when my body still folds like origami at the memory of your name. Not when I flinch at your cologne on a stranger walking past. Not when my grief still speaks your language. People say "move on" as if love is furniture. As if I can pack it in boxes and send it away without it haunting every inch of who I am.

कार्मेल #11 (a new series for 2025)

Worth the Risk I just want you to know- In the quiet spaces of my heart, A wish begins to grow: To pursue you, to make a start. I want to take this leap, To risk it all for you, For in your presence, deep Within, I know it’s true- You are worth the risk, A treasure beyond compare. Win or lose, I won’t regret The love I choose to share. What matters most to me Is not the end, but this- That you feel, undeniably, How precious you truly is. So let me show you every day How lovable you are, How much you mean in every way- My guiding, shining star.

Truth of Poetry

Reading has always been a part of me. I loved the world that books offer, taken into a world of mystery, fiction, and to the lives of those autobiographies and biographies. Delving in parallel worlds that are similar to the world that I live in but better, an escape from the tragedies of this mere reality. A deep part of this desire was because the stories that these stories tell of a world that anyone would be a part of, wonders beyond imagination, and lives that anyone can desire. Whether its set in the past, present, or future, it was a desirable escape. But to write my own never came into fruition, the same fire that bore these writers has not done me the same halo. But soon I was able to translate those words into my own, using it as sharp sword in my own arsenal. But i was limited to the rhetoric of essays. I could say anything and express everything in an essay, because like rhythm was my enemy. Looking for the right tangents and connections to words was far difficult for me, Bu...

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