In this flawless, placid lake of healing
I come to take a bath,
as the bright canvas of blue above me,
Whisper a symphony of silence.
The calm blue lake, a moving mirror,
like a sacred vision,
invites me within its quiet stream,
crystal and pure, in its depths,
I’m like a soul reborn.
In the hidden energy of the limpid water
My broken spirit rejoices with me.
In the dark world of the earth,
rainbow was her light,
the resonance of her soul,
a promising, inspiring arc that whispered of a neon world beyond,
lifting her spirits, in a lofty sight.
Their echoing laughter and colliding love lit millions of fireflies in the sky,
their hearts blended,
in the bosom of the earth.
The shore is distant, a timeless home;
beyond the coastline,
a retreat to the origin, of frothy foam.
Like a lonely wanderer, I meander
floundering, wasted, adrift,
on the ocean of consciousness
in the void of eternity.
The trembling breeze,
The rustle of leaves,
The cooing of birds,
The droning buzz of flies,
The babbling of brooks,
The melody of the wind,
The pouring of rain
Nature’s pre-dawn concert,
a vibration of fleeting moments.
A single chord of stillness runs through the universe,
An endless hum,
through which Nature whispers
in the voice of God. AUM.
Happiness slips through the grip,
like the thinnest sand,
on the beach of life,
leaving only barbed memories behind,
in a never-ending spiral.
Yet, we hang on,
like charged particles
in the air.
Each regal wave surges
whirlpools of mushroom-like foam.
A tiny, slippery drop, like a moment in time,
Perfect in its roundness,
it catches the rainbow colors,
of the setting sun.
Against the ruthless time,
it slides on my fingertips,
like a borrowed moment,
like immortal desires
of the mortal men.
Under the thorny shades of life,
the threads of dilemma, hems in the
feelings of give and take,
and in between their folds,
endless desires leave a lingering trail.
Some desires are greater than life. And
some die the moment you hold them.
Under the rain,
rimming over a monsoon-swelled river,
the brooding bridge stands,
like a solitary heartbeat stopped,
saluting the aggressive river,
in her stride,
frothing, teasing his curled-up cracks,
built to span her springing tide.
The bridge is a waiting, a muffled sob.
The river, a noise, forging forward.
The bridge stands, poised, wordless,
its roots steadfast, rolling in the
of the river.
One and yet torn apart.
By Chaitali Sengupta