Saturday, 27 July 2013

Page torn from the Diary: Gypsie Travelogues : In Short: A Letter

Dedication: "At sunset, on the river bank, Krishna
Loved her for the last time and left...

That night in her husband's arms, Radha felt
So dead that he asked, What is wrong,
Do you mind my kisses, love? And she said,
No, not at all, but thought, What is
It to the corpse if the maggots nip?"

To Consciousness,

                                Dear You. Haven't met you for days, ages, time's chore... unending nights stole you from me, you see? The misty chill of frothy remembrance, some memory trapped in the memoirs of paranoid resemblance cuts off reality. Distance screams, scary eyed dreams, smoke trapped consciousness, how have you been? Time meanders across the miles, like a corpse dried motif in surreal style, roads changed to nightmares, darker agile.. I changed my me, a drifter by now, they know this indifference, not the why or how's! Elusive am I? Oh Consciousness, stale is your epiphany, wild lurks your gaze... Have I been oblivious of living... in a maze? Pardon me Consciousness I am late, the last boat sailed, the last star slept!
                                You awake? On the shore???
                                Conscience (still) knocks my door
                                 Fire froze , illusions dazed ,
                                 Memories chased, passed and more  
                                 As we see "there" instead of "here"
                              Dear Consciousness  can you hear????
    The rattles of wind, roars of fear as far as the eyes can see
    Noise of fire, blows of admire as though hope mock and flee
    Drums of silence, roads crossed in tear, the drudgery of smiles, afraid to be near
    I am drawing the canvas of perception from the hemlock strains
    Where Imagination is obscured from the love locked veins
      Conscious Consciousness, I am on the edge of your calf, jubilant highs and pensive lows,
     Plunging into depression with making up steel brows
     Still I Know I can't stop, will fight the way until the last drop 
     Smothering my will, I choke my words, that once chose the poesy of life.

                                                                                               From Bohemian Antigone. (Forever Yours)


1 comment:

Arpita Paul said...

Well, first of all, I hereby admit that Im still a stranger to many mysteries of life (and ofcourse of the English language & its depth which u've explored to d best of ur abilities)! Having sd that, I LOVE THIS LETTER. TRULY, I DO. Thanks a ton fr this brilliant creation.

My favourite lines: "Conscience (still) knocks my door Fire froze , illusions dazed , memories chased, passed and more" and "Where Imagination is obscured from the love locked veins
Conscious Consciousness, I am on the edge of your cliff, jubilant highs and pensive lows,...."