Hawaiian Beauty by Harshil Parikh
Photography
Cloudy With a Chance of Falling Asleep Before You Can Finish Reading This by Mariam Fuzail
Poetry
where do the clouds go on a barren night?
maybe they are the mist on the waterfront
that has descended for a slumber
maybe they are the fog that clouds the mind of a
night time drinker
unless that is of her own
doing
where do the clouds go on a clear day?
maybe they are the obscuring fog of turned sand
as i walk through a shallow river bank
maybe they are the dewdrops
fallen upon blades of early morning grass
on a clear day when the heavens are still
and the sky refrains from
moving
where do the clouds go after it storms?
maybe they are the rain that inches down my window
as the sky weeps for their departure
maybe they are tears upon one’s eyelashes
after the storm of mind is relinquished
maybe they're impartial to the winds that be
but that i am only
assuming
sometimes the clouds, they obscure the sun
maybe they are the billowing cotton fields
on a merciful day with no sun on our backs
replete with their labor a slave to the orbital waltz
as they pass the time then blow away
but that too is not of their own
choosing
sometimes the clouds, they obscure the moon
maybe they are a blanket upon a slumbering earth
to hush the lonely children to sleep
maybe they're old spirits, spectres trapped within time
though that would be rather
confusing
often the clouds, they pass over the day
maybe they stay to observe their reign on
a kingdom untouchable by bird nor plane
even hot air balloons, they pass right through as though
a thread does pass a loom
it’s maddening yet still quite
amusing
to where do they go when I refuse to look up?
maybe just as the lake at midnight mimics the streets
a silhouette impression in its form complete
behind my shallow reflection they still reside
as i peer into my own restful eyes
unaware of their presence still
looming
and as they drift shall they pull me along?
infinite galaxies dance about each others’ feet
in an orbital waltz where all worlds meet
a reflection of the city lights
in the deep dark abyss of an empty night
as my consciousness begins
undoing
maybe they are the mist on the waterfront
that has descended for a slumber
maybe they are the fog that clouds the mind of a
night time drinker
unless that is of her own
doing
where do the clouds go on a clear day?
maybe they are the obscuring fog of turned sand
as i walk through a shallow river bank
maybe they are the dewdrops
fallen upon blades of early morning grass
on a clear day when the heavens are still
and the sky refrains from
moving
where do the clouds go after it storms?
maybe they are the rain that inches down my window
as the sky weeps for their departure
maybe they are tears upon one’s eyelashes
after the storm of mind is relinquished
maybe they're impartial to the winds that be
but that i am only
assuming
sometimes the clouds, they obscure the sun
maybe they are the billowing cotton fields
on a merciful day with no sun on our backs
replete with their labor a slave to the orbital waltz
as they pass the time then blow away
but that too is not of their own
choosing
sometimes the clouds, they obscure the moon
maybe they are a blanket upon a slumbering earth
to hush the lonely children to sleep
maybe they're old spirits, spectres trapped within time
though that would be rather
confusing
often the clouds, they pass over the day
maybe they stay to observe their reign on
a kingdom untouchable by bird nor plane
even hot air balloons, they pass right through as though
a thread does pass a loom
it’s maddening yet still quite
amusing
to where do they go when I refuse to look up?
maybe just as the lake at midnight mimics the streets
a silhouette impression in its form complete
behind my shallow reflection they still reside
as i peer into my own restful eyes
unaware of their presence still
looming
and as they drift shall they pull me along?
infinite galaxies dance about each others’ feet
in an orbital waltz where all worlds meet
a reflection of the city lights
in the deep dark abyss of an empty night
as my consciousness begins
undoing