The Nymph....Dancing...

They said, mine own Queen Fairy, you dance now a days—and dance really well.

They took an oath and poured the words again and again to my burning eardrums—that, now, you could dance my Hearty; and you dance really well.

They murmured…they were all jubilant at the steps you marked on the dancing floor…the whirl of chiffon you wore…the resonance of the clapping hands—I could see you my Nymph…

…there, you made a move…you, circled the universe…I could see the radiant red of your cloths reflecting all around…I could see you Girl,…the claps are echoed through my ears—through my heart…

You dance before the Earth, before the pairs of praising eyes; Little Lady, mine own Fairy; you dance for all.

Staying apart, miles apart, I’m told: you dance really well.




You can dance these days.

Dance my Daughter, dance; I beg, dance for once, for me, dance for once in my dream—and let me see you dance…

…let me draw a kiss on your cheeks…on your forehead soft…

An Owl in me...

An Owl works in me constant during dark nights—through the silent dead hours and keeps me awake with eyelids wide open.

 

The Owl in me looks every nook and corner for some prey and keeps me awake with eyelids wide open.

 

My mind longs for rest, my limbs start to break apart in eternal fatigue, but the sleepless Owl in me—merciless—keeps me full awake with eyelids wide open.

 

I look at the dark sky—I count the stars unnumbered—I place myself near the windowsill and I stay awake with eyelids wide open.

 

The World sleeps a peaceful sleep before my eyes—the Owl in me laughs and keeps me awake with eyelids wide open.

 

The Owl laughs at me—I beg to Him for some sleep—for some rest—peaceful and untroubled; He only laughs, laughs and winks—a red-eyed wink.

 

I remain sleepless with the Owl dwelling in me—the Owl works in me—day in and day out, and keeps me awake with eyelids wide open.

 

An Owl works in me constant—or else, I turn to an Owl all by myself and remain awake all night, with eyelids wide open…

 

Blank Mirror

Even the Mirror was blank this evening!

 

The sky was overcast with thick clouds—the light had turned into a gloomy faint tint since the mid hours of the day—and with doors closed and windows all shut up the indoor was much more dark and much more cloudy.

 

Power failed, the candle danced in the storm coming through the cracks of the doors and windows; the about to be extinguished light only contributed a handsome to make the atmosphere more gloomy and darkish.

 

I stood before the Mirror as usual—the reflection is the only other living being in my solitary seclusion.

 

I stood before the Mirror with the dancing candle.

 

Suddenly the wind turned violent—the candle danced furiously and went off. Only a white ray of smoke and the smell of burnt wax thickened around.

 

I stood before the Mirror—searched vigorously to find my only companion—but it was all black—pitch black—and blank.

 

Even the Mirror was blank.

 

I was confined in a blank dark universe. Only lightning showed me myself—only thunder sang to my ears.

 

Even the Mirror was blank this evening.  

SUNSHINE...

This Sky overcast,
This dark Cloud,
This raging Wind,
Are you to but
Reflect and reveal 
The state of mind
We two suffer?

Are you to sooth the Hearts—
All lost in an unfathomed
Wilderness,
Standing perplexed among
The army of brutal souls—
That neither feels
Nor do sympathize?

Never ending drop of Rain,
Colder than the coldest touch
Of Death,
Are you to work constant
To make the reality melt
Till the harsh be soft
And rudeness washed away?

Or else,
Are these all queued up
To make us feel
We two share the support
Of the ethereal minstrels 
Father sent for us?

Then favour us
With some glorious Sunshine,
Father,
One last time,
Thus to lead us to a place
Full of Peace 
And mellowed forever.

Show us the path,
The Ray of Hope,
Guide us to a place
Where we two
Stand above everything
With one single Heart
Full of Love, full of Faith.

The Lonely Child

He was an only child. And as all only children he too was a lonely one.

The parents gone to the office—the child found him all alone in the house. The rooms, silent, seemed to eat him up—the traumatic silence seemed to tear him apart. There was no sound other than his very own breathing, no movements other than his own loitering, no living being other than the one in front of the mirror!

He was an only child—he was a lonely child.

He found only printed papers to be his companion—he found only white papers to speak his mind. He was all-alone—a complete lone creature—amidst the crowded world.


Slowly he learned to make friendship with the loneliness—
Slowly he learned to like the loneliness—
Slowly he grew up with the loneliness—


Slowly he himself became the loneliness—


His mind remained lonesome while he roams about among the relations of life.

With a heart utter alone the child grew up—
With a mind utter alone the child turned aged—


He stretched his arms—in desperate passion—to find a soul—he ended up finding only vacant air to be his mate!

His hairs turned gray—he continued on with his own lonesome world.


The lonely kid became a lonely man—

Lonely by heart—
By mind—
By feelings—
By passion—
By physic—

Lonely by every possible means—  

The rest of the World moved on together—
He stayed behind—
All alone—
With all his loneliness—



He is the Loneliness…