I’ve built a world

 

It’s true—I’ve built a world of my own,

Under moon and stars, a quiet zone.

Far from the noise where wars still cry,

In nature’s arms, I let time pass by.

While the world burns in calls of fight,

Innocence fades before seeing light.

Some have everything, yet feel so bare,

Some have nothing—not even a place to care.

Some sleep in cars, some under the sky,

These fragile truths make the heart sigh.

What can we say, and who would hear,

When every voice dissolves in fear?

So I chose a silence, soft and deep,

Where with the stars, my thoughts can sleep.

We all search for a place that feels safe and whole,

And often retreat within our own soul.

Life itself—so delicate, so brief,

A bubble of moments, joy and grief.

~ Dawn

What an evening it was...

 

What an evening it was—so quietly unreal,

I was walking away, and he was leaving too.

To a shore far from me, yet closer to someone else,

Distance held a story I never quite knew.

Silent, almost distant, still he moved ahead,

His lips said nothing, but his heart surely spoke.

And I stood there lost, tangled in that moment,

In thoughts that lingered like words unspoken.

Why must he go, I wondered in that fading light,

When tomorrow would bring him back into sight?

In that misty dusk, questions softly remained,

Every goodbye carrying a promise unnamed.

~ Dawn

She’s always led

 

In Parliament halls, a new voice rose,

A whisper of change that steadily grows.

The women’s bill lit a hopeful sky,

Yet politics moved with its own reply.

In counts of votes, dreams too were weighed,

Support and doubt in colors displayed.

Rights written neatly upon the page,

But will they reach hearts beyond the stage?

A woman’s strength is no new art,

She’s always led—just unseen in part.

This bill’s a doorway, not the end,

A longer road lies just around the bend.

In corridors of power, many moves unfold,

Yet truth still flickers, brave and bold.

When intent is pure, change will be real,

Else promises fade like words we feel.

Still she walks with hope held tight,

Rewriting herself in every fight.

When minds transform, not just the law,

True freedom will reach every door.

~ Dawn

O moon !

 

This half-smile of the moon tonight,

Feels like a soul, gently incomplete,

Yet in its silence, it softly speaks,

Whispering truths so tender, so sweet.

Cradled in the arms of the darkened sky,

A glow so pure, so calm, so far,

And still it feels so close to me,

Like a familiar, quiet star.

Just this glimpse of you is enough,

To fill my dreams, to light my way,

O moon—whole or broken in parts,

You make my world shine anyway.

Even your scars feel beautiful to me,

Even your silence sings like a song,

You may not speak, yet every night,

You tell me where I belong.

Perhaps I’m a little like you,

A little unfinished, softly undone,

And maybe in this shared incompleteness,

We become whole—just as one.

~ Dawn

A walking bundle of laughter

 

Mic in hand, with a style so unique,
The moment he walks in—no one can stay meek.

He starts off calm, almost serious in tone,
But the laughter he sparks quickly overflows.

He pauses, thinks… then drops a perfect line,
And suddenly, everyone’s laughing at the same time.

A simple face, but a mind full of spark,
Every word he speaks hits straight to the mark.

Not just a man, but a moment of cheer,
A walking bundle of laughter, standing right here.

~ Dawn

A simple little story,

 

Wrapped in a warm dosa, a simple little story,

A quiet plate filled with everyday glory.

In its crisp golden layer, a gentle calm resides,

Each bite brings comfort that softly abides.

Like coconut chutney—pure, soft, and light,

Like sambar—warm with a hint of spice.

Served on a leaf, so humble and true,

Like finding something familiar in all that we do.

Pause for a moment, just smile and be,

Let small joys unfold so effortlessly.

Perhaps life is just like this plate we see—

Simple, colorful… and beautifully free.

~ Dawn

A gift of rhythm

 

In the folds of a saree lives a world of melody,

Each beat of the drum carries a quiet longing within.

In every strike of the hand, a rhythm finds its voice,

In every echo of the drum, identity begins.

A smile softly hums with notes unspoken,

In every tune, life’s quiet dignity is woven.

This is not just sound—it’s an ancient song,

A gift of rhythm that has traveled generations long.

In every cadence lives the spirit of celebration,

In its pulse resides an entire world in vibration.

In every beat, the heart finds a voice again,

Speaking in rhythms words could never explain.

~ Dawn