The light shines the brightest

Despair and Hope

2025-10-08T13:04:00.002+05:30

Despair

You stand still;

Forever in movement,

In a gridlock of systems,

Of systems

Of systems,

Ad infinitum,

Bound, wound and contrived to be,

A clockwork, a sextant,

Left to time and guide,

On a path as rigid as religious dreams,

In a network of minds that fail to perceive.

A scuffle of people,

Tightly stacked in seats with belts,

Holding on to prayers with foibles and vice,

Wishing for no theater, stuck in anticipation,

Waiting for an anticlimax,

A moment of nothing

A safe landing,

Into a world with dreams

Of chaos and headlines,

Blaring 24*7, in ears shut under microphones

Brains fried till they know no hope

Stuck in gungho sordid cacophonies

About crumbling carbons and iridescent lights

A tomorrow as lost as today,

With cities that send out roads

To nowhere,

You are lost and affright,

Stuck on a vigil while starring into headlights,

To be runover, and left as roadkill,

Plastered on tarmacs

Laid and relaid

Till no one knows what lay.

Hope

If you were to believe the earth is a home,

Like a berth on a train,

On a journey to infinity,

The sky a window,

To deep azure and distant stars

A mirage and a light

Perceived only through yearning and sight,

You are here, alive.

Hold your breath and count,

Let your mind be unbound.

Breathe.

There's hope is the farthest stars you can see,

And in the skyline that forever recedes to allow you to be.

There's hope in the little steps you take,

The tickle from a breeze at the end of a hot day.

There's hope if you believe,

In yourself, and life as it is, and as it can be.

There's hope if you believe,

And with that belief

You stride to infinity,

Or a morrow at least.

The Light shines the brightest.

The Forever city

2023-07-26T18:58:00.008+05:30

Suffocating, Struggling,

Strutting along,

Huffing and puffing

In the heat, and rain,

A moment is too precious to lose,

The now lasts forever,

Lest the money drops

And the rents raise,

The meters recalibrate

To tell, you aren't enough,

And there's another to take your matchbox

With fire within, and a hunger burning

To conquer all that's in front, and behind-

A forever jungle of hidden dreams, and varicose cement.

Bombay,

An assault on your senses,

An invasion on all you know,

A dichotomy reclaimed from itself

Yet

Where no one has a moment-

A second isn't enough to earn a living

And you need more than a vision-

For all you can see is the concrete or the sea;

An innate urge to live,

To be,

Thoughtlessly driven,

A mind without knowing its own exhaustion.

Bombay,

A city that breathes, as it chokes,

Counted and counting,

Pumped by dopey fumes,

Jacked by vitamin M,

Deluded by its own grandeur

Growing and growing

Till all it sees is itself.

Parel or Vashi,

You can stand at a point of no return,

With some hope,

Peer at the sea

And still think you are here,

In this city, endless,

The forever city,

Bombay.

The paths to home

2022-12-06T11:21:00.004+05:30

All paths lead home,

And you reach on a somber dusk morrow,

To find that the garbage smell is now perfumed,

The dark alleys are now with rude advertisements of hope,

The silent corners now choke with fumes from SUVs and their desperate honking ruckus,

The broken windows of a forgotten home, is now a mall with anonymous black glass panes.

All just a moment away from the truth,

Clinging on, tight-fisted, red-eyed, lest dreams takeover

And you see the fecund fake rumble and rubbish,

In crass giggles and matchbox homes,

Cenotaphs for a drugged nation.

All hope spun from trauma,

Of generations upon generations,

Caste, creed, skin color, religion,

Thoughtless rage, and mindless veneration.

All vanity, a patented hubris,

3D holograms of smiling bearded men,

Posed and poised upon a pedestal, all too high,

For those of mere commonsense to question.

All roads lead away,

A journey through forsaken lanes,

Where myths of muscle and grit,

Grime and slime, farce phases of progress,

Peel away like hastily laid tar,

Sophisticated pancake for the real man,

Lest you think everything is a hologram.

All homes smell of old ancestors,

You just have to live long enough.

Layers of roads upon lakes and towns,

How far deep do you want to dig?

Maybe to strike water,

Or oil,

Or maybe an effigy,

Of an old truth,

Which still hasn't been burnt at a stake.

Green

2022-03-01T09:47:00.000+05:30

Muddy village roads between green fields,

Measured and quartered between families;

Pledged and seized,

For dowry,

For a son-in-law who ran away six months later

With a neighbour's daughter,

On the last bus to the big town.

Here's where the fire last ate,

The once green grass and wild bush,

Dried by a relentless summer sun,

Every last drop licked clean;

Till a nonchalant tourist lit a cigarette

And awoke a deep-held desire

To scourge the land barren,

A glorious flame that ran past boundaries

And left the tiger nothing but farm chicken to eat.

Manicured paths amongst green bamboo trees,

Calls of songbirds, and one, beautiful and desperate

For a mate, for a flock, a murder, a raison d'etre.

The last of the species, he cries and sings,

All in vain,

But for the award-winning photograph,

Hung in a gallery,

Neat and chic on a sour cream wall,

Mostly lifeless,

Almost withering, hopeless.

Green number plates with tax breaks

Silent scooties that honk mercilessly,

Up and down bumpy roads, stirring dust, setting off allergies.

A planet in crisis-- the storms no more blow

as per ancient winds,

But are carried by young fury,

Hot-blooded without empathy,

From afar and near, as if gathered by a religion,

An incandescent sky who may have been a God,

But now a fallen deva, bemoaning a pralaya

A fallen angel, hell too is a duty.

In the beginning, there was a green leaf,

And on it a baby with a toe in mouth,

Tongue-in-cheek at a species which

will forget itself in avarice and glory.

In the beginning were two,

maybe green, maybe blue,

we don't know, for we can't see,

our sight too narrow and firmly tied

by eons of the hunt and scurry.

In the end, there will be,

Something endlessly green, pink, white, black,

Or maybe nothing.

When no human sees,

does it even matter for our memory?

துள்ளும் இளம் காண்

கற்றவன் கோவிலில் தஞ்சம் கேட்டானாம்

பச்சை இளம் துளிர் நுநியில் முடிவிலி

நான் அறிந்ததோ முற்றிலும் துளி.

I Parcel my dreams ahead

2020-08-06T13:41:00.003+05:30

I parcel my dreams ahead

In the longhorn of a goods train,

Passing silent homes, chugging south,

On tracks almost dead,

Past stations, empty and bereft.

The pendulums of civilisation sway a bit slower,

And the seconds seem to last much longer,

In this day that never seems to end,

One with many seasons, and lives,

An abeyance stuck in crisis; of its own shadow, affright.

The summer was an hour ago,

The mangoes fresh and ripe,

To be pickled and souffled,

Cut and quartered, fought over,

Like nations over imaginary borders.

The fear hangs on like a grandfather clock,

In the silence of midnight, you hear its sway,

An inheritance, generation upon generation,

Waiting, and waiting more, for time to pass,

Or to know the bug is no more.

The torn days of the calendar lay

In the nooks and crannies of a staircase landing,

Tera Incognita, waiting to be swept away someday,

By broom or breeze,

Into forgotten dreams.

The spiders come and go,

And weeds eat into the concrete;

As the sun crosses back to south,

An evening breeze whispers

Scandalous tales, and salacious conspiracies.

Into the embers of the dying west,

Someday, I shall go,

Aboard a flight with bad coffee,

Cardboard sandwiches and tinned hope,

Packed and parcelled for bonded souls.

Stillness

2020-04-03T21:18:00.001+05:30

Is a city even alive if nothing moves?

The long horn of the trains that rush south,
The flights dropping their wheels to land home,
The blaring honking rowdy roads--
All comatose,
almost lifeless,
no murmur, no breath.

Stillness.

The street lights burn, and the crows caw sleeplessly,
The racketing parakeets scream past free,
A lonely kite surveys its next meal;

Yet,
Stillness.

There are whispers, there is a mild laughter,
But the fear hangs in the air like a colloidal dream--
How small is a strand of RNA?

So small that we cannot imagine till we see.

Stillness.

This now is too long to bear,
Is there a moratorium on life?
Can we wake up day after and find the world as it was?

Nagaram,
A city is that which moves.
And when it ceases to be,
We are all dead, even if a bit alive.

All those soles burnt on the dug up roads,
Now I am a prisoner, self-constrained.
The hours flow into one another,
Tomorrow is still part of the same dream.

Breathe

2019-10-12T12:02:00.003+05:30

Breathe,

Let go,

Breathe.

Can you see time,

Can you

Be born,

Be alive,

And die,

In just this present,

A now forever,

Where it all lasts forever,

And then just doesn't.

Are you just a dream?

What if a moment is all there is,

Time nothing but a persistence,

Life, a feeling that refuses to go away.

Can you wake up every day?

See,

The light streaming in;

Moonlight,

The shore you crave is 5 miles away.

Maybe memories,

Maybe.

But now,

live,

Be alive.

Live.

Breathe,

Let go,

Breathe.

Dreams

2019-05-26T17:51:00.002+05:30

There are your dreams,

And then there are mine,

But all I wish to know is ours.

Let me see the stars twinkle in your eyes,

And the ocean sand between our toes;

Let the summer moon cast its long shadows,

On us, and

Our footprints on this silent shore.

To hold this moment forever—

Misty car windows, and a slow patter rain,

A wish-lash,

Together,

We close our eyes and blow.

Rowdy parakeets on a summer noon,

Chillies, and mangoes,

The sunglasses cannot hide

The laughter in our eyes,

The joy in our words,

unsaid,

In the tip of our tongues,

felt.

This is our now—

Hand in hand;

This was our yesterday—

Silent whispers of hope;

This is our morrow—

The stained leaves at the bottom of the cup know.

The aircon

2019-04-28T18:30:00.001+05:30

There are sunsets and numbers that add into themselves,

There are green fields, and sum of parts,

Snowy deserts that stretch to infinity,

Ice that melts like hope on a warm Madras day.

Every 'morrow is a waking,

A day to do your shoelaces and ties,

To adjust watches, and judge the time,

To never sleep, but dream with your eyes open.

Summer lasts forever in my city,

The aircon at twenty-seven degree C is my winter,

My snow-capped peaks, my pashmina,

My Buddha in minus five, smiling with belief.

Hope

2019-03-30T13:25:00.000+05:30

I.

Angsty hope of childhood,

A distant memory,

Dirty shoes and tip-toeing

To avoid the check after the assembly.

Angsty hope of youth,

Not so long ago,

Trying to slip in with slippers,

Past the bar-tender high on club rules.

Angsty hope of the twenties,

The morrow stretches forever,

Past summers and winters,

Hope a bachelor, mouldy and grouse.

II.

If magic doesn't happen even with all the believing,

Then there's no point to moon risings or rainbows,

Then there's no point in wondering at the stars,

There's no point in roaming the empty roads,

There's no hope in the serenade of the sleepless crows.

III.

Not all dreams are seen in your sleep,

Some are lived between prosaic every day,

In the midst of a summer drought,

In the eye of a winter cyclone,

In a garden of fallen trees and dead flowers,

The long walk along the road that ever ends,

The yearning at waves that are never lost for sounds.

IV.

The clocks show the same time every day,

The long hand losing the race again and again,

Tick after tick, each lasting an eternity.

Time is seen in the wrinkles on our foreheads,

And the voice of your grandfather, now dead.

The embers shall swallow your memories,

Songs on Gods who maybe, and you.

There's no road sign to your street,

None to mark your house,

The memories lurk like strangers in a station,

Forever looking into the distance

For a train that never shall come.

V.

Maybe life is a long moment,

Which shall end for that's how long a moment lasts.

Maybe life is a dream,

Which ends when you wake up to the other, now and then.

Maybe life is a memory,

Which shall fade away into a non-existence.

Maybe life is hope,

A quest forever, a quest to reach evermore.

VI.

Silence

VII.

ஓசை

2019-01-03T12:18:00.003+05:30

தென்றல் வீச , அலைகள் ஓங்க

நீ பாடடா , நம் சுதந்திர ஓசை.

அடங்காதே , மிரளாதே,

உன் குரல் அடர் உடைக்கும்,

நம் வாழ்வு இனி மண்ணுக்கும் இசைக்கும் .

பாவம் காற்றில் நடனம் ஆட

மனம் மோகித்து இன்பம் பெற

பாடடா,பாடடா

நம் சுதந்திர ஓசை.

ஏங்கும் உன்னிதம் இங்கு உள்ளதோ

வியப்பும் ஒரு இதம் தருமோ,

பாடடா,பாடடா

நம் மறுவழி ஓசை.

எத்திசையும் உறுதி ஓங்கும்

அகம் நம்பி பலம் ஓதும்

இனி பாடடா,பாடடா

நம் பரம் ஓசை.

தென்றல் வீச , அலைகள் ஓங்க

நீ பாடடா , நம் சுதந்திர ஓசை.

அடங்காதே , மிரளாதே,

உன் குரல் அடர் உடைக்கும்,

நம் வாழ்வு இனி மண்ணுக்கும் இசைக்கும் .

Nine Paintings

2018-09-08T20:16:00.002+05:30

This is a portrait of a dying plant,
It stands in agony, shrivelled;
A drought consumed its dreams,
And wayside it lay, no one to tend,
On soil red, ground for a year barren.

We know not who she was,
But her beauty persists like a childhood memory;
Her lips were red, eyes blue,
We recall- she was beautiful surely?
Five nights you think otherwise, but let her be.

It could be a nightmare, but you stayed awake.
It lingers on for days, and when your red-eyes shut,
You are woken up by the very image.
Your love bought it for you to keep, a parting gift,
And it haunts like a fateful night, the clock stuck at half past eight.

The war ended a few years ago,
But the memory of violence remains still,
The child lies dead on a mother's lap,
The field is red, and the sky a grey,
We can remember if we will. But we can forget.

You want it to be something,
But did the artist care to mean?
There's a riot of colours, a splash of green and red,
This is art we concur,
But our education isn't enough. Maybe despite it, we can.

The king ruled for a hundred years
He was a fat man of red vengeance.
He killed a million, tortured more,
In his name men raped and ravaged,
But he built these temples of old stone, with no concrete.

It is your city ninety years ago,
A tram line runs on Mount road,
Men wear turbans and carry a stick;
There are no other oppressors in sight,
Except for a name board in bright red. Can you read?

Agape, bright pinks and reds, made up and blown,
Neon light highlights, do you want to buy some more?
Maybe sell your soul or your house,
For a scratch of ecstasy, a bit of debauchery,
Or maybe a house built on a lake to drown your dreams.

For the third step there was nowhere,
Except for August on the calendar;
Will Mahabali comeback and stand upright?
There's an umbrella, there are signs,
You note the date in red and decide to sleep in late.

Evermore

2018-06-12T10:51:00.001+05:30

There is now,
And this is my evermore.
The clocks remain still,
And the hands that move them have no will.

There's a breeze that blows from the south-west,
The homeless set their beds on bus-stop benches,
And the last bus passes by- no one to get out or in-
You can't miss a bus that never stops, rushing past.

The bats flutter across the sunset,
As dark as night, elegant and intent,
So what if you can't see, just listen,
The world is cat's ball of wool, strings set free.

The horns blare and race,
There are homes elsewhere,
There are midnight cravings, and moments of hope,
There's somewhere to be now, and else on the morrow.

The signals blink amber, look and proceed they beg,
But the blinding light race as fast and as far,
There's this moment where you see it all as a distant star,
You look and chase, and it is still far away, this is evermore.

The dog packs give chase with rage brewed all day,
The tea stalls that threw them biscuits remain still;
There are no masters, there's no art, or other living in the now-
Pulled by gravity, torn by speed, to remain in evermore.

There's a weak crescent moon rising at a distant shore,
The waves never remain still, even in evermore.

The caws of the sleepless try to drown the aircon,
But the summer air is too hot, and the crows too tired,
They try and as they might, to say a bit more,
But all you can do is, live, and hope, in evermore.

There is now,
And this is my evermore.
The clocks remain still,
And the hands that move them have no will.

This is now,
And this is my evermore.

This is evermore.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more

2018-04-18T14:31:00.000+05:30

Write me a eulogy when I am no more.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more,
Read it aloud to yourself, my l'amour.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more,
Tear it up and scatter it with the winds,
Let me be unknown, let me be evermore.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more,
Tell them who I am, and the sparkle in my eyes,
That of me which may ever die. Burn the paper,
Wear the ashes, let me never be known.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more,
Believe that I may be in a better place,
Forget your pain in joys that we have known.
Rest a while, reread and rewrite,
Till I fade away like a falling star, that once shone.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more,
Find me in my drafts, bind them together,
Let no one know who I was, or where I am;
Find a place with no breeze, Earth broken,
Lay them six feet under, with no epithet,
No stone, to be eaten away by time, alone.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more.
Close your eyes, and in the darkness see me,
Don't forget, for we are nothing but memories
when long gone; scattered bits of paper,
Fading ink- into a million pieces, torn.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more,
Hear me breathe in the evening breeze,
Tall coconut trees, and rowdy parakeets,
The smell of home, camphor and beach.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more,
Let me go, set me free, but hold on to our memories,
Find me in the evening dew, find me in evermore.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more,
Read it aloud to yourself, my l'amour.

Write me a eulogy when I am no more.

Infinity

2017-12-20T11:08:00.000+05:30

A hundred years of Solitude,
A lifetime of Silences,
A forever that outlasts itself,
A time immeasurable and immense.

To hold the world in the palm of your hands,
To count the breaths as if to measure the winds,
To see the world in three steps and no more,
To hear nothing, but the voice- your own.

அறிந்தது உணர்வு, உணர்வின் மயக்கம்,
தன் இன்பத்தின் மோகம் பெறுக,
வடிவம்பெறா வையம் கற்பிக்க
தன் இழந்து தான் அறியும் வழி.

To behold beauty in all you see,
To find peace within, amidst volatility,
To yearn to live albeit the terror and malice,
To seek meaning for itself, forthright.

To be yourself, and be all that you are,
To seek not desire, nor despair,
To hold still the world, unshaken, unstirred,
To let be, to let be, as it is, as it can be.

தஞ்சம் பெற, தன் குறிக்கும் நீதி பெற,
தன் வழி அறிய தான் மனம் ஏங்குக.
திரை எல்லை கடந்து அகம் அறிந்தோர்க்கு எல்லாம்,
அமைதியில் நிற்க, நிற்படுத்த, அறிவார் முடிவிலி.

Silences

2017-10-10T10:23:00.003+05:30

There are no words,
Only silences.

There are dreams,
That live till the memory fails.

There is love,
A memory written in your cursive.

There is the nothing,
A lifetime without silences.

There is I,
Upright, and alone.

There is hope,
That lingers as a long lost dream.

There is a memory,
An evanescent winter.

There is Madras,
Home, and all that I know.

There are no words,
Only silences.

There are silences,
Those that I call my own.

Us

2017-06-05T23:58:00.002+05:30

Tell me my name,

So I never forget.

Remind me who I am,

Lest I become someone else.

Tell me our love,

Hold my hands and never let go.

Let me look into your eyes,

To find my better self, evermore.

Tell me your name,

In whispers, slowly.

Let us abandon,

The measured tenses of coerced civility.

Tell the clocks to forget us,

As if the night has no memory.

Let time stay afar to watch,

This moment that lasts as ours.

Tell the world to look away,

We are but shadows in sway puppetry.

Let us search for a star light,

A shimmy a'small on the twilight.

Tell no one who we are,

Lest they try to find us.

Let us remain as we are,

Unbound and limitless.

Tell the infinity to hold itself,

A'life of calm till it becomes breathless.

Nothing remains but us,

An ode to our Amadeus.

Tonight

2017-04-04T20:53:00.000+05:30

Tonight, can we forget our politics,
Can we forget the different things we believe in,
the Gods we worship and don't.

Tonight, can we feel ourselves to be human,
Can we let silence dance and tickle our senses a bit?

Tonight, can we have a moment of quiet oneness,
A small rock under a vast and infinite sky,
So ignorant that we know not how little we know.

Tonight, can this be all that lasts,
For a moment's peace is worth all our belief.

Tonight, can we let tonight be,
Stay a while, and be you and me,
Our hope, our lives, different only relatively.

Tonight can be,
Let us be tonight.

Tonight,

Be.

Infinity

2017-02-12T18:05:00.000+05:30

To hold the world in the palm of your hand,

To see tomorrow as a dream,

To wake up to find yourself as infinity,

To be I,

To be you,

To be.

Belief lasts, as long as you choose to,

And the world is all you believe it to be.

Life's but a waking dream,

Infinity, a pursuit that lasts itself.

தான் மறந்து,

ஆற்றல் எழுந்து,

அகண்ட புணர்ச்சி.

நிற்பதுவும் அகமே,

நிலையில்லா முடிவிலி.

The light shines the brightest.

The night and I conspire

2016-11-30T00:11:00.003+05:30

The night and I conspire,
To never let a human be my love,
Ever again;

A Hope that betrays senses and joy,
A lifetime of wont manifest buried under a rubble,
So dense that nothing remains,
But the silence.

This silence is mine, and mine alone,
A line infinite, a world unbound,
We live breath-held,
Till neither can any more.

If this is forever,
Then a moment is all there is,
Consciousness conspired-
To never begin nor end.

This night and I,
We remain, we stay, we live,
The pause between her verses,
The gleam of teeth between her lips.

Human, never.
Maybe.
If she is.

Humanity

2016-10-22T13:30:00.001+05:30

What remains is the first light through the storm clouds,

And a heavy sigh of an old lady with ten sons

Who are nowhere, but a daughter who left her husband.

Plunder, and the world shifts, dried blood in the sands

Are swept around in swirls of remorseful history,

Tales of valour die as fast as they are born,

An instant less than the last life who knew the heroes.

She, he, whatever- the land,

It stands still, a gashed being which heals over time,

For the forests shall grow again, and the mountains shift;

The human tears dried the second they hit the parched earth.

We are transient beings who for all our vanity perish.

The world isn't the one that needs saving-

In our thirst we shall drink each others' blood,

In our hunger, dig the jaws into ourselves.

Our history is for us and our future, beyond,

The books shall rot, and shall lose form,

The web shall tangle itself, gnarled

Listless, powerless, strangle itself.

Humanity- you, I, we-

We are ugly and beautiful-

We shall be gone all too soon,

The mirror shall have none to tell the truth.

The ruins shall have no admirers,

And there will be no mighty lord to beget a son

Who can take you to lands or planets safer-

There's no home for those who doom themselves.

Peace, peace, peace-

For who knows what's there

When no one is there to know.

Peace, peace, peace.

Silences

2016-09-28T12:27:00.000+05:30

Silences.

The moment as the page turns,
And awaits a-lay;

The breath in abeyance,
The verse to be sung, lingers in suspense;

Silence.
Yours. And mine.

As the shimmer in your eyes,
In the looking-glass, as you smile.

When you let the hug linger,
Squeeze in closer and closer,

And wish evermore,
And evermore.

The silences,
Silences,
Ours.

I

2016-08-01T00:13:00.002+05:30

Forget me and my name,

And the rocks shall turn to sand;

Through the sands of time

with a sieve you may search,

And in the murmur of the waves

hope to find,

Me, and a name,

When all is gone,

The air too,

The mind,

forgotten,

The breath,

held,

Words,

unspoken,

A dream,

Lost, comatose,

I stand, I be,

I am, For that's all there is,

I am,

Limits be no bound.

In an eternal time,

Now is now

As it was then,

And when it is now,

It is also then;

And then,

A timeless when,

Where I be,

For I am,

I am,

Forget me and my name,

And the rocks shall turn to sand;

And sands shall burn away,

And the ashes too,

And none shall remain,

But I,

For I am,

I am,

Life

2016-06-30T20:36:00.001+05:30

I

Does it matter if it s a ship or a city?

From up here, they are just a clutter of light,

Floating in the nothingness, of a moonless night.

I lay back and watch the sky,

A blanket of stars, giving way to morning light.

olin vazhiyo iruvidham,

Kanin alavo etinadooram.

(The way of light is two

Your eyes can see till their reach)

II

Shimmering lights that fade away,

Memory, a treason to the past,

Carried along from afar,

To further away, and away,

Till we no more know,

If it is what it was.

Whence it began, we now see, there

The day we were born, is still untold,

And,

Somewhere we are the future,

Waiting to be seen alive,

The crosses and 'O's

A drama drawn on velveteen yore.

III

The darkest night is a gray in hiding,

I search not for the white, nor the black,

But them both- fair's not worth more

Than the deepest unknown.

And a shade of Gray, and another,

We are but effervescent bubbles of life;

And life, which we are, but know not-

A quest far Grayer than memory, or the night.

Evanescence

2016-04-22T13:16:00.000+05:30

I

Evanescence,

A lifetime to forget everything you ever held close,

Framed and boxed away like old photograph,

To be found in a rubble, as antique inheritance,

By a child still with innocence.

II

Those you held in tight embrace,

With love and trust, are far gone,

In miles, and in memories.

And you see them light years later,

Their past, your present,

Your present, to them still not beckoned.

III

Would words ever heal

The scars of words,

As fire for fire,

Stirs a rebirth-

A phoenix from the end,

A beginning to forget, to mend.

Can we all forget the years 'tween,

Can what's lost be found,

Befuddled days buried in calendars,

Magic potion to a legendary curse.

IV

Till then, the past I hold to cherish,

You, a dream, still and perfect,

As you were the day you flew away,

To a land East, closer to the day.

Someday,

The threads undone shall be woven,

Cloistered years, forgotten,

The blood we share, bespoken,

The love, of the closest kin.