A Christmas confession ...
The Place Where God Does Not Exist
Two castles stand side by side --
majestic, beautiful, walls made of shining white marble.
A lonely stroll in silent, cloudy dusk has deviated me from path of life
to semi-dark narrow passage-way paved with ancient stone.
At the far end, there is cliff plunging into unfathomable depth
it's bare edge is adorned with a drying, leafless tree.
I take slow steps towards other end --
my past and future reveal themselves on the parallel mirrors
like long forgotten, hazy video clips retrieved from God's archive.
In a flash, the tree seems to lit up as if it is on fire --
I run to get better hold of this spectacle,
but soon it went out and skeleton of charcoal is left.
No, it's on fire again ... I don't know what I'm witnessing ...
The mirage drags me towards it as fire attracts insects.
When I reach other end, some glow is still left on ashes.
In frenzy drunken state I try to embrace it,
the frail figure fails to endure my lofty longings --
a devilish laughter swells inside breast as I fall into nothingness
clinging spent-out charcoals near heart with childish satisfaction.
I woke up with sweats all over body --
managed to fall asleep on study-table,
working hard on a mathematical problem in hot summer-night.
It was raining outside --- I opened the window,
monsoon rain swept inside and washed pathos from soul.
Wish forlorn clouds could help me
to send my thoughts someone far-away !
Annotation : Landscape of dream and the title is inspired from an episode in Orhan Pamuk's novel Snow (chapter-16).
The Place Where God Does Not Exist
Two castles stand side by side --
majestic, beautiful, walls made of shining white marble.
A lonely stroll in silent, cloudy dusk has deviated me from path of life
to semi-dark narrow passage-way paved with ancient stone.
At the far end, there is cliff plunging into unfathomable depth
it's bare edge is adorned with a drying, leafless tree.
I take slow steps towards other end --
my past and future reveal themselves on the parallel mirrors
like long forgotten, hazy video clips retrieved from God's archive.
In a flash, the tree seems to lit up as if it is on fire --
I run to get better hold of this spectacle,
but soon it went out and skeleton of charcoal is left.
No, it's on fire again ... I don't know what I'm witnessing ...
The mirage drags me towards it as fire attracts insects.
When I reach other end, some glow is still left on ashes.
In frenzy drunken state I try to embrace it,
the frail figure fails to endure my lofty longings --
a devilish laughter swells inside breast as I fall into nothingness
clinging spent-out charcoals near heart with childish satisfaction.
I woke up with sweats all over body --
managed to fall asleep on study-table,
working hard on a mathematical problem in hot summer-night.
It was raining outside --- I opened the window,
monsoon rain swept inside and washed pathos from soul.
Wish forlorn clouds could help me
to send my thoughts someone far-away !
Annotation : Landscape of dream and the title is inspired from an episode in Orhan Pamuk's novel Snow (chapter-16).
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