spinning too close then spinning away

Right now, this moment that we are enjoying,
a moment with happiness beyond measure,
and love beyond infinite;
this moment will just fade into a story
in the back of our minds.
When we were having a conversation that was erudite,
and turned it into a joke with giggles that lingered,
we smiled and smiled and promised each other,
that we would stay together.
But that promise is still in the Recycle Bin.
When we chatted away,
and I promised to be by your side forever,
and believed in it for months and months-
then years after, it's a memory as small as a pin.
When we smiled at each other with tear streaked faces,
and firmly said that this would be the last time we
all get into a fight,
but then we fought again
and again
and again
all through morning and night.
When we were on the swing in my park,
and we looked at each,
I knew I was thinking about
how I would wait forever,
even if you would carry around a lot of clout,
even if you would stop talking to me.
But now I laugh at that thought,
and then cry.
How our beloved memories simply fall,
fall,
fall,
and fall,
through the infinitely cloudy voids
of our minds.

The falling never comes to an end,
it's like a circular remote loop.
The memories fall and fall
and some days, we catch a glimpse of them.
But then again, too quick to get a hold
they vanish again -
to continue their unrestrained discoidal journey.

-Nalini

a speck in the universe

You got that right Wordsworth,

I really do wander like a lonely cloud.

A lonely cloud along with so many other lonely clouds.

So if all are lonely...no one is. 

Still, sometimes I roam lonely as a cloud.

I'm standing in a crowd, with a crowd, 

actually just a part of  the crowd. 

But I feel lonely, 

like nobody wants to be with the real me. 

They all like the cloud who-

 is feather light, and never blocks the Sun,

the Sun who is the only thing that shines. 

Still, sometimes I sit irrelevant as a stone. 

A stone, a pebble, grit, shingle-

my names, but who even cares?

My self is as irrelevant;

as my name, as my body

as my existence. 

"I'm Pebble," I say

"oh hi pobel! " they retort,

they find me extraneous,

that's what they meant. 

Still, sometimes I float robotically as a dandelion.

I float here and there,

get blown to places I never choose to go.

I disperse to wherever the wind pushes me,

my choice is as my own

as it does not belong.

I keep floating, 

on and on and on.