I am a little whirlpool,
in a violent stream
Choked on my own
silent screams.
Moving through the crowd,
forlorn, for desires
I barter my dreams
My eyes ragged,
And so, is my jeans
So I Masquerade in
shady themes
I am a dark wave
shooting space.
So anachronistic in
These times extreme
Riding light through
space & time.
My soul is splitting
right at the seam.
I have been buzzing with questions
So silent and so Impatient
So loud and so volatile
I have yet much to decide
The paths that set me free
And the holes to the void
After all we will die
Leave immortality behind
And the dreams you dreamt
Time sweeps them aside..
Oh!, How I dream?
About dreams lost,
About my past,
Of ccompassions,
Of passions,
Of emotions rushed,
Of desired hushed,
and I have dreamt.
Of rough mountains,
Of tender oceans ,
Of rocky moonlight,
Of blazing lights,
And bewildering sights
Oh, how I dream!
About her eyes
I dream of lies
That I tell myself
When I wake up
That it is reality!
And I am living
Only in a dream.
A serious phase is dawning on me
As I am being swept by this torrent
My mind is a little further from me
As I am fighting this current
The ones I love are drifting away
When they are gone,
I’ll lose my way
If not me, then who
Is controlling my fate
Who within me,
Is spreading this hate?
So long I surfed this wave
Now a new path I shall pave
For it is time to collect the bill
For everything I ever gave.
What I do is,
I step into a stranger’s shoes,
and walk along finding the clues.
I see, I hear and talk like him
I be him, am him, belong to him.
He may be painter, a soldier or a killer,
I have been both pious and sinner.
I see through your eye,
The same ground the same sky.
But wrought with perceptions of my own,
Things I see, to you I have shown.
Strung in the harmony of words,
I will narrate you the chirping of birds
Like crackling of galaxies, a herd of herds.
Drop the honeyed sun in the ocean
Or set upon entire worlds in motion.
What I do,
Is I speak a language,
of a universal syntax.
Please do correct me if I am lax,
I do not mean to impose,
I just don’t talk in prose.
If you are looking for patterns,
You won’t find any.
There is not one but one too many.
I simply plough in the mind field,
some times sowing ,others slashing.
Seeds in the corners of the unknown minds.
Shall they grow up to be a labyrinth ?
Or remain just seeds.
How much of what I say is true ?
It is all up to you.
What I do is,
I reflect you in my lines.
Read your life in between them,
In one I have lived many lives.
I like to shuffle between them.
Moving between you I study you.
Unknown, I live among you.
Long after I am gone and my bones are interred.
My verses shall be read, my songs sung, my poetry heard.
I shine in your dreamy eyes.
I reveal the truth behind your lies.
What I do is I read, not books.
But smile,frowns,faces and looks.
What I do is,
I bend the rules.
Even make them break them.
Sometimes I have to remake them.
My characters are real,
the scenes and my experiences.
The sights are really surreal.
A lot of wrong turns, not mere events.
In the pitch dark night.
I will describe the light
For you I will shine bright.
Is what I do !
– sahar
the featured picture is a copyright of ©Prabal Pandey , a professional photographer and traveller. you can see his photo album at https://m.flickr.com/#/photos/prabalpandey/
Whispers of Immortality 