Wrapped In A Dream

Wrapped In A Dream

The rancid realization clings to life,
that most of it is predefined by things
way beyond its own mere grasp, like the borders
of its origin and inheritance!


What can a life do about whence it came?
This life that responds to a certain name,
with certain aspirations held inside
a thick shell of skin with eyes, ears and limbs
and the face of a wanderer was born
with nothing, in nowhere, to oblivion!


Could it have settled down accepting the accepted norms?
But it’s way too late to wonder what could have been,
this river in spate has almost run its due course,
let this spent life pass its remaining hours wrapped in a dream!





The Day begins with a throbbing pain in his heart,
last night his better half had run out of the wind
to breathe and sustain the blossoming of his love.
His first few steps are sluggish, hazy and confused,
like a thick foggy morning in late December
and he knows, the sun had set on him forever!


Brief autumn was the months of joyful completion,
it came and lingered for a while or two before
fading to the mossy annals of oblivion,
buried alive with no traces left above the ground!


Then the sudden onslaught of winter shocked the world,
each day became all frozen to its tender core,
the humble pen stopped bleeding and the blood ceased to flow,
that etched teary sadness and laughter on an empty page.


After many a month of such desolate emptiness,
another mighty blizzard came, howling wind blowing hard
but this time though the Day would lose his better half, his blood
would thaw and melt to flow and etch his tears and dreams again!

The Pessimist Talking

The Pessimist Talking

Still you’d say, death would not have been better
than this life of looking the other way,
of silent compromise with the devil
and perchance even worse! “But tomorrow…”
Yes, what this afternoon was yesterday;
that is how tomorrows will ever be
a past hope, an illusion in the end!


Still you’d root for friends over solitude,
as if our company and partners say
more of us than what we are underneath
and perchance even lie! “But a real friend…”
A wolf, hidden behind the face of man;
that is how all friends will turn out to be,
a promise, that was shattered in the end!



The Band Of Ents

I am honored. Thank you!


Poem By Amit Rahman, My Inspiring Friend And Collaborator.

“Wait for a while,” I shouted and sped towards the horizon,

“are you Treebeard’s clan?” I cried, almost out of breath

but the silhouettes kept receding into the sunset,

a band of weary Ents, persecuted by aws all around.

“Finglas is that you?”, doubting if I could be heard,

I could not help shouting nevertheless,

I had to try and stop them from receding into the desert sands beyond,

so I pressed on, “is that not Fladrif, I see, at your side?”

But it was all in utter vain, only silence greeted me,

save the echoes of my panting words and steps, overwrought,

since serrated Greed and short sighted gains had won the fight

against our dying conscience for rest of both the Time and World!

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