Wednesday, August 22, 2007

With the fall of the night

The night brings its own sacked stories,
In the ear dropping silence of my cuboid
As I turn off the golden lamp shade,
The yellow light of the candle burns within
As I cover the black sheath of my eyes,
I discover some red colored semicircles…

Some scenes replicate in my mind,
Like that in the illustrated fable books,
I scribble the chats in the bubbles,
And paint the picture my way,
The saga of my secret dwell,
In the tale that I once lived in…

Nebulous metaphors of some years,
Are deeply penetrated within,
And as the darkness swells up,
The moist heart evokes them,
Like Butterfly pangs and pendulum strikes,
I flash back in the memento of time…

The dam built on my eyes breaks over,
As I swallow a lump in my throat,
My pillow does offer his shoulders,
But the snow melts from the peaks,
My heart sings the composed cantata,
As I try clearing the miasma within…

I ruminate the tale twice told,
And endure all the twinges within,
I try to macerate the fall of yellow leaves,
Only to hitch-hike to full moon nights!
Why the evil darkness baits me?
How long can I be my own ancillary?

What more can you do to a mind?
If it starts mingling over memories
With peculiar fragrances and sounds;
It goes back to the days of my glory
Burying memoirs; I keep myself inundated
But the abyss in me is never satiated …

In the pretext of helping to heal myself
I reach at the roots of my laminated soul
The place where I have masked myself
And got written in my annals ago
I now, live on with a phantasm inside
Passing silent days and sleepless nights…

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