My small thoughts
May be halted at your lips
Which chant lies in silence
But I cannot restart a voyage into the seas
Of your manipulations, I am sorry.
Don`t ask me to find
A meaning for a life detained.
In the cave of dark enclosures
Myths are myths for me
And I am exiled from your fantasy land.
When your entwined life has chosen
To be in consolation of past tales
You talk about a life of fulness
But I say it aloud -
We are just alive kicking and reveling.
A shadow imitates the God
Of your sketches and colours
It may next even meditate under
An unyielding tree with yellow leaves
That grow hoping to touch the sky!
The fugitive in me
Will not and cannot go to that still
For I may find it embarrassing
To lose the present hold
-The hold of some grip indeed.
My hands discern the lichen
Engraving itself on
The moisture of insanity
But they are feeble and worn out
Yours are long and muscular, I admit.
The vastness of loneliness may be painful
But I know its coherence and ambiance
The rhythm of life was a note just attempted
And my harp now may wail to no end
But it will be what I like -that says it all.
M.D Dinesh Nair
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wailing-harp/
