I don’t want to write this,
I don’t know what to write,
The days are filled with light of sun,
The darkness seems a fair comrade.
I don’t calculate the meters here,
No rhythm, rhyme my mood permits,
Hermit – the word bedazzling me,
But blue bright sky does call me up.
This joy does hurt to core,
When grief gives hint, I ask for more,
Just paper feels the clot in ink.
No stanzas come to life now,
The throat is blocked by air now,
Melancholy, I need you here!
Suck in whole of soul now!
Your silence rings as thousand horns,
The horns then stab night-creatures dead,
So hush, you share your shine, not soul,
The moonlight sparks your mystery of the ‘Z’.
The pale blue horizon seems such an awe,
I sail to you to say the words unsaid,
So close it seemed but reach couldn’t I,
Horizon’s mystery; beautiful as you!
You’ll fade away like names written on sand,
The shores of world are so unfed,
But I can live forever saying,
Your essence, of now, is of deep vast sea!
I’ve got air in lungs,
Pen in the hand (red),
Happy is my life, I can live now:
A yearning, burning crescent…
When will the great day dawn,
Day when the day could be night,
All people’s phone in ‘flight-mode’,
None of the ,dream-chasing’ dares.
All during childhood we wait,
To grow as a free flying being,
Sea of flowers expected,
But then do they say that the sea’s just water!
Then of enigma we think,
Wiser adults do expect swim in sea,
Now but the sea has such sudden salt,
Slaved in the chains of salt-pans we live!
Then when we grow ever old,
All our life seems corroded gold,
Rows then the boat to horizon unknown,
Sadly though, the earth goes round and round
and round and round…
Beauty & Tragedy 