I miss writing poems
But I seem to have exhausted all words
They cascade in a garbled cacophony
Only to disappear into a silence in eternity
There is SO much to say
Yet....what more can I say?
There is so much to ask
Yet...Whom shall I ask?
I stand at a crossroad
A naked flame tall and strong
Engulfed by I know not what
From where I seem to neither come nor go...
Is this that point where everything becomes pointless?
Or perhaps that click of time that stands still in timelessness....
The fire rages within a serene ocean
Me - neither this nor that
Sometimes at play with the fire
Sometimes at rest on the ocean bed.
Eyes like dark clouds unburden a flood
Ears like an open well hear voices they could do without
Fingers like tendrils reach out to grasp the ungraspable
Even as the mouth like a reed flute plays tunes that go unheard
And the nostrils like a medium to lungs breathing their last
Inhale your presence in every breath
All these are mine....yet they are not
All these are me....yet I am not
The dice rolls on unaffected, unaware
The wheel of the roulette takes another turn
As the gamblers watch on
Some elated some forlorn ...
The night swallows all
Or is it the first streak of dawn?
Doesn't matter ... the cosmos inhales and exhales itself into a zillion time zones and forms
Only the board stays on
As the wheel of the roulette turns on and on....
Did I say I miss writing poems?
That must have been the one who felt blocked.
The free one writes on nevertheless.... :-)