A good time.

Having a good time

Means meeting up, talking

To people whom you missed, people who you like

Your friends, to be precise.

An actual friend, is one

Who understands what it means…to be you.

Who love you for who you are

And don’t judge you based on mere observation.

They are the ones who matter…at the end of the day.


Under construction.


Wait till the work is done.

Till the workers, the masons, have toiled it out

To create the structure on which you stand

Till dawn to dusk, the piles of rubble, the piles of cement

Collect, almost a reflection of the job that was done

For you to have a bed to lie on, a roof at which to stare.


Me, I stand, looking up at the night sky

Wondering what the next day holds

It’s not that simple, not that lucid, to determine paths

How is it that we don’t know what lies, The next moment

May bring a surprise

That can last a while.

Uncertainty beckons

Oh why? Can’t things go back to being simple, pray?


How can you be productive, when you’ve got not much to do?

Would you rather while the time away, or pursue something which matters to you?

Creating something out of nothing, is that being productive?

Or just waiting till the right time, and then continue to live?

Oh the feeling of not knowing what you want, or where you’re actually headed

Not being as good as you thought you would be, is something that you dreaded.

There is so much to be done, yet so little possible at a time

Achieving a small task in one day but doing it right, is never really a crime.

Those little things are the ones, which ultimately bring you joy

But of course, you would never know, until you actually try.

“Be productive”…they say, it helps, “to achieve more in life”,

But how will I actually do that, when i’m living in a world of strife?