Well, a long time since I wrote last - and here goes.
All this while I was waiting for a "topic" to write about little realising that its not the subject but the WILL to write thats most important - once the ball is set in motion the rest follows.
Here is my poem out to people(including me) who get bogged down by relative trivialities.
------------------------------------------------------------
A melancholic cloak weaves around me,
what I have not far outweighs all that I have.
Missed opportunities tear into my flesh like flaming splinters,
each stab draws closer to the seat of my existence.
My imcompetence is driving me crazy,
the hounds of my spectacular failures are at my heels,
their eyes ablaze , their intentions murderous,
and even as I try to scramble away,
I feel their warm moist breath tingle my skin.
Wearily, I raise myself from my coffin of despair,
like the notorious Dracula , now scourged by his own devices.
But, there is Hope I tell myself,
as I drag myself to the window.
It is a beautiful night.
A majestic moon sprawls in the Upper Heavens,
like a divine creation of the Almighty -
an idea spawned as he lay resting,immersed in mirth;
The wind blows the clouds around,
as they hustle - attendants to His Majesty.
A tree sways in a rhythmic frenzy,
as if seized by invisible fetters of exuberance,
the tree - disrobed of its green upholstery,
its bark hollowed out by numerous wood-peckers,
stands as a beacon - an eerie silhouette,
as it dreams of happier days bygone.
But, there is Hope it tells itself,
as it braces itself for the next step.
It is a beautiful night.
A moan reaches my ears, as my eyes catch something,
there in the distance, a lone figure, clad in black,
limps along the treacherous path of life,
with a stilt for a leg - the journey is arduous,
I know him - he lost all and more to Nature's fury,
for no fault of his - he was earmarked in a cruel game of chance,
that he still lives on - is a miracle in itself,
with no obvious joy, no smile to greet him, no kind words,
no tender feet running around, no food and water to quench him,
there is neither a home nor a soul to call his own,
all that awaits him are snobs, stares, miseries and pain.
But, there is Hope he tells himself,
as he pulls his tattered robe closer.
It is a beautiful night.
A heart wringing cry rings out in a corner,
its a cat - not out to hunt though !
shes' lost a kitten - oh! and they were born just yesterday,
the mother searches furiously as she lets out a sigh,
what pain a mother must undergo - the depth , the pathos,
the feline clambers along , eagerly smelling for her baby,
she looks into every hole, behind the shrubs, round the corner,
her senses heightened, the grief is stifling her,
only another mother can comprehend her state,
to bear a baby all along, just to loose it to the night,
she makes a dash across the fields, for she must look everywhere,
But, there is Hope she tells herself,
as she jumps across a rickety fence.
It is a beautiful night.
I turn back and walk towards my bed,
a divine sense of serenity descends upon me,
a smile spreads across my face,
I straighten the sheet, climb into my bed,
I no longer feel vanquished,
my lands lie gleaming in the sunshine,
a sweet smell of hard labor, peace and prosperity
wafts through the air, its a glorious time.
Humanity hangs by a thread of Hope in the Sea of Eternity,
Hope is the leveler the all encompassing conquerer,
Hope is what keeps the cosmos fixed in its place,
For, there is Hope I tell myself,
as I slip into the joy of sweet slumber.
