Mehjabin Shahed (Mihi)

And Romeo Thought Juliet Never Waited

Never give out your password or credit card number in an instant message conversation.

The wrong way says:
hi there
Wryl says:

The wrong way says:
thanks
The wrong way says:
who are you again?
The wrong way says:
ok..let me check the profile
Wryl says:
u dont have a prf
The wrong way says:
nope, apparantly not..hehe
The wrong way says:
mira..
The wrong way says:
right..we’ve talked before..
Wryl says:
yes romeo
The wrong way says:
lol
The wrong way says:
says who i’m the romeo?
Wryl says:
well romeo thought juliet didnot wait
Wryl says:
so did u
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
i never gave up my hopes on you
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
that’d be jumping to conclusions
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
this juliet seems to be one rather enchanting..
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
but full of indifference…as far as my eloquence permits me
Wryl says:
what colour is a dream
Wryl says:
enduring all things with a deeper meaning and reveal mysteries that always threaten the secure tranquility of simple and ingenous things
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
you put them words down nice…i tell you
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
but dreams are colorless
Wryl says:
banal creatures donot know that several lifetimes can be lived in an instance
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
you assign the colors, with your senses you paint the mauve sinisterness of your dreamscape
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
time is only a frame of disillusionment that your temporal existance covets
Wryl says:
slipped into a world where speculation is the mother tongue
Wryl says:
a familiar ragged story
Wryl says:
how would you know
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
and proof is obscene
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
only to be told by a finkish hobo
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
i don’t know, i just presume
Wryl says:
in what appears to be a sudden rush of insight_they are convinced they can read a life in a face
Wryl says:
even in these games of imagination it pays to impose a lil order
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
life is not to be read, insights, merely blemishes in the face of societal judgment, and it’s tyranny of baser instincts that mirrors your innate
Wryl says:
and wonder thru the wilderness of stories
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
hand in hand, as the rotten daisies under our feet wither away
Wryl says:
an ancient ivory framed mirror glints obediently
Wryl says:
reveals impatience
Wryl says:
reassurin that there is nothin in the world
Wryl says:
real or imagined
Wryl says:
which it cannot reflect
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
wicked moonlight only shining the white of the ivories..reminding you of the poaching of your self…to the surreal we all bow
Wryl says:
or which it cant stretch and distort
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
to its inefficacy is sudden its delirium
Wryl says:
white, the colour of death
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
pale, the color of life…the fine line is only finer when you are myopic
Wryl says:

Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:

Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
i have to leave
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
it was nice talking to you..
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
we’ll do it again sometime
Wryl says:
farewell
Wryl says:

Wryl says:
now that time is endin
Wryl says:
its love that im sendin to u
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
don’t let the silly dove spy on you in the orphan drizzle of dawn
Wryl says:
but it was a soft nite
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
and with the honor i take it, the same is returned, for it’s neither i am worthy of, nor what i want
Evasive tranquility and my catharsis says:
it could have been broken with the wingstroke of a 3 minute old chick
Wryl says:
willin to nurse a wounded soul with memories, words and fingers

Hour Glass

It so seemed summer was greeted with a kiss as spring matured. Evolving as with nature complimented youth spent in awing the beauty of thoughts, conceptual morals deeming its greater meanings, instances where no debate was required to prove that two crossed at three was five only when it was wrong. Or else one added to one would still be one but only in Truth Tables in the AND Gate, or probably in a song of Robert Miles. Music dedicated to moments or an evening of watching a movie weaving memoirs, we sublime such moments in time into sand and seal them in an hourglass. Now as time leaves behind, we recollect those instants in lively flashes of remembrance or rather quirk happenstance and convene belief and vigor in the strength of love flowing through. We keep turning the hourglass which is hardly a dimension of time and more concurrence of fate. Every so often the repetitive circumstances glowing with reminders spellbind the lattice of the currently presence of now where a soft night is willing to nurse a wounded soul with memories, words and fingers as the rotten daisies under our feet wither away. Coincidences are more abundant with the maturing grey in my hair, and I know have to keep walking in these busy streets of life.

(c)Copyright Mehjabin Shahed

18^th June 2012