How will I fly
my kite
whooshing in the darkness of this mid night
All illusory power, have
taken a murkey look
Neither is gives inking
about its thunder, nor rumbles
about the wherewithal of an empty space
I am stranded between the two ends –
Who holds the string between my fingers, and
for whom am I turning the thread wheel
Those words
that have fossilized itself
inside ignitious rocks
Will erupt one day
with a volcanic vengeance
Taking all that molten story of this earth
like an alien land, and
From its mouth, will
Create another world
to be read by its inhabitants
far clearly
Deciphering peace and tranquility –
Which was lacking previously
in that so called ‘human earth’
I was not familiar
with this co-walker on my morning walk
Who was striding slowly, barefoot
on a long two tiled bridge –
a road and the rail lines under it
But, his act of finishing his thoughts
and starting it again
drew me a little closer to him –
and I nearly paused my steps further
to listen to his less comprehensible sentences –
Meaningful et al
I knew
I was getting closer to him
by his truthful utterance –
as he was slicing it part by part
He was ragged, and grey of hair
Stinking badly, but
of a princely milieu
I took pause
Under His guidance
and thought about the way of the world –
Those who are self proclaimed rich, have little of their own
Those who are ragged, have all the wisdom to share
I walk by my own feet
treading ‘myself’ along
taking half stride into itself, and
other half towards the unknown
Unbeknown,
I fancy my will
staring blank
towards an open sky
How I wonder
What I feel,
No less I go forward
Lesser far I see His play playing on me
How will you play scythe
on my nascent thoughts
that is firmly rooted
into the wisdom of yore
Hidden under the
Millenium protective earth
What you have done till yet
by your ulterior motive, has been
a two edged sword, that
have cut your tongue out into the air
Bleeding reason with your choicest colour
Knowing not how many cemeteries you wore on yourself
What hides you, there
deeper
into your faint smile
carrying, appendages of wrinkled thoughts
Every time that you sag
a muted gaze upon me
I remain fixed
of my telling a tale
That
Not much is left in-between
to take a resurrected view of
flickering of breaths
That, you will be leaving me anytime soon
Keeping me silent –
a leftover
into your faint gaze
Swiftly like a tongue of the wisp
it rose from the upper land
crooning into my soft ears
Wisdom of the yore –
Not all that comes passing by
attend to your life
All that lay hidden from your empty tomb
Resurrect a claim
Treasure into thy golden land
Saying so
It sublimated into the air
The tellings of His being
Trailing a leftover –
The carcass and my bones
I kept hiding
a little smile
from the torn picture
of my old black and white photograh
that have been worn out
beyond recognition –
Parched and crumpled
because of
my unkeeping, and age;
Lest
it will take
One huff of my present
And,
it too will
start weeping
from the cracks
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