An empty darkness spreads over the realm
of my scattered thoughts that have gone astray
like the shadow cast by a setting sun
on the ground at the end of a bright day.
Shadows of the foliage and yonder hill,
receding from the sun and her warm light,
keep getting longer, forever until
even the plains too are shrouded by the night.
But a darkness all around lets us see
the wonders above, hidden by the sun –
the whole universe and her history
back to the moment her tale had begun.
So on behalf of my scattered thoughts, I
belligerently bid the sun goodbye!
Have you seen how the mornings spread across the sky,
as if Nature herself, with an invisible brush
drips water to the east on darkness of the night
and the horizons grow pale with every wash!
After a while her color palette shifts to blue,
her canvas brightens with virgin rays from the sun
and soon the silence of the air is broken too
by birds on rustic trees, meadows and city barns.
Then the fusing yellow dwarf takes over the scene,
like a child, jolted from the peace of his mother’s thighs.
The canvas turns into an art of reckoning,
exposed and merciless, in the blink of an eye!
O Night, tender night, I miss the darkness
of your silent hours, when the society
is dead asleep! Introspection that shreds
myself to pieces in search of the light
demands prolonged hours of darkness in solitude!
Now I too must surrender to the whims
and wishes of my frail limbs, the pinnacle
of evolution, one step in front of the chimps!
Pity for my empty dreams I have through the night
like the rest, of belonging to a higher step
the next day; higher not ahead on a stairway
built on the whispering wind and vague promises
of a better day, at the cost of one’s neighbors’ demise!
As the dawn spreads across the horizon,
a darkness grows inside despite the rising sun.
Soon the forged manacle of time with its tick-tocking,
incessant, pushes me over the edge of sanity.
And though I know, absolute freedom too is disastrous,
amid so many shining abattoirs
on every walk of life, I am neither cruel
nor fat enough to take either roles, so I pray –
O Night, tender night, I miss growing mad the other way!
That soothing touch of the night cannot revive me.
Its silence, riding on the pleasant wind
or its dark shroud, hiding my sorrows for the rain
can no more imbue me with the light of creation.
What else is more unique to humankind alone?
How else can I justify my blessed breaths?
This hazy roller coaster ride, the one
we so lovingly plan ahead in time,
without knowing which way is the next turn –
up or down, how sharp to the left or right,
emboldens us to call those rare few without plans
as outcasts for not yielding to the perceived norms.
And lo, still I write, though since dawn I was
bleeding to death on the red plains of Mars,
with the dusk She rose like the rising sun,
halfway to Venus my spirit returned!
Is it not the way true love should feel like,
the more one lives, the less the other dies?
Is it sleep beckoning me?
Am I losing consciousness?
Is that a guitar wailing
in the minor scale of D?
In my sleep I’m never free
from the haunting of her face,
perhaps losing it will give me some respite!
Perhaps darkness is my destiny,
for whenever I have found myself a light,
no matter how faint the glimmer is
or how far, the world would always overwhelm
the sparks of a dizzy flame
flying from my fancy thoughts and wild dreams!
Though the night is vexed too, now I know –
thou shalt talk no more to me!
Tough luck I have in this life,
O Fair Daughter of the world, perhaps
the next one will be a little less cumbersome…
Until then, O teary eyes,
break my heart but I must hold my tongue!
Image: The Temptation of St. Anthony by Salvador Dali