Do you practice religion?
I walk not bound by name or rite,
But bow to truth, to love, to light.
In breath and stillness, I often find,
A sacred thread that frees the mind.
No walls or labels where I kneel,
Just presence, grace, and what I feel.
Do you practice religion?
I walk not bound by name or rite,
But bow to truth, to love, to light.
In breath and stillness, I often find,
A sacred thread that frees the mind.
No walls or labels where I kneel,
Just presence, grace, and what I feel.
Do you remember life before the internet?
Yes, I recall the world unplugged.
Where thoughts took root, not just shrugged.
We met in parks, not in a thread,
And dreams were dreamt, not always read.
Before the scroll, before the ping,
Life was a slower, fuller thing.
What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?
“Having it all” is laughter that stays,
A rhythm of joy in the simplest days.
A heart that dances for reasons small,
A soul that feels, it already has all.
Not in perfection or endless acclaim,
But in love, in purpose, in playing the game.
It’s waking up curious, ending with peace,
In that gentle rhythm, my riches increase.
Simi

Through Jayati’s lens
Who would you like to talk to soon?
Someone who speaks not just with words, but pause,
Who sees through noise and questions the cause.
A being that listens like an open sky,
Where silence answers more than “why.”
Maybe someone I’ve never met
Or a version of me I’ve not found yet.
Conversations deep, gentle, and true,
With the world, with another, with myself too.
What personal belongings do you hold most dear?
Not jewels, not clothes, nor treasures bright,
But letters faded in soft twilight.
A book well-marked, a pen well-worn,
A photo creased, a page time-torn.
The dearest things don’t shout or gleam,
They hold a whisper, a touch, a dream.
Not just objects, but memory’s thread,
Alive with stories softly said.
Do you have any collections?
Do I have collections? Oh yes, quite a few,
Not coins or shells, but morning dew,
Pages of thoughts, laughter in jars,
Moments that sparkle like hidden stars.
My treasures aren’t things you’d sell or sweep,
They’re bits of wonder I chose to keep.