I’ve never tried holding on to anything

Why should I?

It is all but grains of sand

Sifting through the river of time.


Have you tried holding on?

Have you felt the chaos in your head?

The chaos that reflects in your bloodstream, flowing through your chest and gut

Tarnishing everything black

Why should you?

It is all but projections

Walking through the blank spaces of our imaginations

Spaces that long. Spaces that want.


Trying to hold, trying to own

Fostered by a dimension that believes in ownership being the biggest form of success

We try to drive contentment into our hearts, like it could be driven

We grasp at wisps of smoke, trying to hold on to the beautiful smell of skin

We think we have control

That’s why we try to hold on.


I scaled a mountain and found contentment

Drawing me inward. Infinitely

That feeling of detached belongingness when I saw the magnitude of space stretching its arms open to accept this little soul


There was no will to attain the vastness. No desire for control

Somewhere within we know we are a part of it, and not just mere visitors trying to make it ours

There was no will to attain the vastness

But just to be One

Breathing the same breath

Reverberating the same notes



All that the spaces in my soul yearn for

You’re it

I see Your eyes, and it feels like the warm sun brushing my skin on a cold day

When You smile, the tarnish that has blackened me fulfilling my life, seems to melt away

When You hold me, I know I don’t own You

Like I don’t own the clouds, the mountains, or the cold winds

But I will still scale the mountains, out of breath

To find You

As all the spaces in my soul yearn for, You’re it.

You’re all of it.


Can I hold on to you?


I am You

We breathe the same breath

Hum the same note

I am not a visitor

I am the wisp of smoke that smells of Your skin.


Photograph at Sandakphu by Ameya Baporikar



3 responses to “Wisp

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