I feel split inside
On the outside, pity
There once was an uncorrupted bond
Now, just my distraught mind.
A crippled tie, and beyond
A hope, some fragments to bind.
I feel split inside
On the outside, pity
There once was an uncorrupted bond
Now, just my distraught mind.
A crippled tie, and beyond
A hope, some fragments to bind.
It slipped that night
Like marbles do from moist hands.
My consciousness enticed by your muffled breaths
A clinching embrace I could not let go.
Trapped, for I was tantalized
In short-lived contentment.
A slip. Was it?
A choice, although contemplated over.
In my momentary weakness
It found a strength.
“Just this once.
Follow your pulse.”
I know we were one, my tenderness and yours
“Endure it,” it said, “or go undone.”
Withered befuddled, my heart has sunk
The perils, or perks of being young?
My conscience, it struck that night
It slipped. And I let it.
Is the future new and the past dead
Is it real that this is it?
Did you say you hear it tick?
Chained to you in our songs of freedom
Did we forget our wrongs can be rewritten?
Forget that where you belong, I am from too?
One vale, the same dust, me and you.
In the dusky pink evening vault
Retracing steps from the unsullied path
I’ve watched you retract granted dreams.
Ever reckoned our vain plight, power supreme?
You always get to me
Later, never sooner
Like the illusive waves
Trying to soak the bare sea.
With promises to mollify
My parched mind(less) dreams.
You crawl, first away and then to me you slither
Caress every fish in the pond.
Impulse and whims unwithered
My scarce brightness pawned
For a guisard’s fleeting fancies
I give in again, the magician without a wand.
Your caprices too, they call out to me
From the cracks in your buttoned-up bosom.
In your unspoken words there is conviction
Of the yearning you think is concealed.
Seldom, only tenderness, no friction
My time frozen, in your magnetic prism.
Why then, do I let you close
Choose clemency, where bigotry flows.
You cling, yet still not to me
Undraped I lay, I wish, in my birthday suit
Waiting, for that absolute comity
They always have you first,
This time – will you get to me?
Many lost to time and turns
Some to death,
And a couple to predestined fate.
Stomach churns and pocket burns,
Impetuosity, adjourned.
Yet still, hopeful, of false return.
An adamant soul eclipsed,
By the endearment it once bore.
Vim adrift, moments slipped.
Look back, out, and away
Let reality lead you astray
One pause. Once unguarded. Then, no sway.
Your mortal time, bygone
The gentle husk abandoned
My conflicting chronicle? Never forlorn.
Touches and goes
Rarely, it evenly flows.
In my own laughter I’ve seen its traces
Conquering bodies, enthralling faces.
No evil enchanter, no kiss of death
In abundance, itself it curses.
When the loud becomes shrill,
And the smile lines deepen
It will depart from you, leave you still.
Like the spirit leaving your body
Searching for another soul.
Chasing its next prey,
Nesting in one more tender heart
Momentarily, it makes you feel whole.
Rummaging for old notes long ago exchanged
You’ve found it in reading them.
Smelled it in the dewy petrichor of February rain
Snuggled with it often,
Entwined in bed
More than once, it’s taken away your pain.
You embraced it yesterday
You are wishing for it now
And it will probably be yours tomorrow.
Like every other mortal reality
It approaches, mesmerizes, passes and perishes.
Yet, you pine for it, and you hope
You shine, you grow
From your fractured happiness, you elope.
Millions before me have come and gone
Brooding, whimpering, sullen.
Bawling over lovers lost, kin distraught
Under your glorified watch.
Our little lost lives
Our petty poisoned peeves
Petite, in your charitable world.
First, from a distance and now up close
I’ve watched you bloom, since time existed
Not withering, nor dwindling.
On nights like these, you are your most quick-witted
I’ve heard you mock our infinitesimal realities.
Often I’ve had to question this ritual,
This schedule, this mundane experiment so conceptual.
Days and decades spent caressing
The only darlings, the moving family.
And then, I stopped looking.
Through the speck of dust I saw a clearer conscience
In the mist-laden dawn lay an untroubled soul.
Uplifted, by the sound of your thin, weighty presence
The one that gushes through my body, end to end
Pronouncing it whole.
Many more are to come and go
In the magnanimity of you
And your bountiful show.
All smiles and glory
Waiting, breathlessly to tell the story
Helplessly smiling,
Humming, goggling, doodling
With all of life’s childhood conflicts
Transforming into adult mockery.
Let the thoughts wander, let them surface
For the adoration of the voice
The moonlit breezy eyes
Sink into them, blithe and bouncy
Meanderer, seeking time, affability
You’ll tarry.
Scout a spot, make a reservation
Let the moments set in now
For time will chase them away
Like fleeting thoughts,
And the vanishing acts
Your rumination, it will slay.
Little by little it desiccates
Withering love,
The freshness, wilting with every unspoken word.
Unguarded, the visions peer through every crevice in your wooden floor
The disturbingly bright sun settled on your eyes
Questioning you, plunging into the dusky alcoves
Now unhidden, but once concealed by your relinquishment.
Little by little you let loose
Opening up the passages once obscure.
Secluded from the happy boughs
Uprooting, shooting
Meandering into the placid Pensieve
Now at rest.
Content with its keeper’s secretly humouring intuitions
No more melancholic,
No more changeful.
The keeper’s empty cubbyholes
Now leased out to the swivelling zephyr.
Unperturbed, and composed this time,
It took another plunge
Cascading into the fathomless meadows she once shied from
Plummetless, a shielding abyss
Where the tenants had lived,
All along – the sunshowers, the fierce drizzles, the nostalgic sprinkles.
Exotic.
Like vanilla beans in my coffee mug.
Ferrying me, shouldering me.
Like Daddy and me on his humpback.
Sunbeamy.
Like the early morning breeze Mum loves so much.
And like the doting winter sun.
Dewy, misty, unwilted.
Like the newborns, the youthful us.
Harmonious. Blending.
Like a medley of my dreams.
Like her patchwork of knitted jumpers.
Like the pastiche – from seven long years.
Some fragments, they are withering.
Slipping away.
Like the last drops of rain I used to try and collect for my paperboats to sail longer, farther.
Smithereens.
But assembled. Veiled by beaming, piercing laughter.
Like the infectious chuckles before Sunday evening sunsets.
A melange of my number ones,
My most cherished, my most treasured.
Like the buttered, toasted bread on the breakfast plate.
Recollection, remembrance of that every tiny-big moment.
Charming, and magnetizing, infusing.
Like the convolutions harboring my consciousness.
Memories.
Entwined.