A blank diary lies on the desk.
hiding the purpose on its pages.
It is willing to absorb
the unkempt emotions as ink.
Moisture of ink is ready to get dry
as scribbles of an untold tale.
It may reveal its destiny as testimony
through mysterious mist as saga.
The papers are fragile so as fingers.
Thin texture may not bear the accumulated weight
of emotions the heart carry with much ease.
As all emotions are frost in compressed past.
The chamber is sealed by the present
and key is lost in the depth of future.
But the heat of burning memories
melts the chamber creating flash flood
and gush from the heart as tears.
It reflects on cheeks as rainbow hues
masking the melancholy in its splendour.
The destiny of diary remains blank
as it never got wet by ink or contrive the tale.
Heavy emotional down pour rewrites
the destiny of an unwritten tale.
Diary got into the shelf as a mundane routine.
While disclosing a truth of life for us.
‘Some tales are better left unsaid’……
© Maaya Dev 2014
An excellent existentialist exposition on the boundless possibilities of writing.
Superb Dear lovely flow .While disclosing a truth of life for us.
‘Some tales are better left unsaid’……love these lines much with all writ.
(Y)
Much thanks Mr Louis & Regards…
Thank you Lata, I am glad you liked it and appreciated it with your valuable comment…:-)
An admirable write.
I loved how your words flowed into a shimmering symphony, bringing out the exquisite soul of you, the writer, the creator of your diary!
Looking forward to reading more of your gems.
Love,
Lopa.
Thank you Lopa for appreciating this poem…:-)
Thank you so much Gopal lahiri for your feedback.