Banks of time…

Banks of time just stopped by
Like the last grain of passing sands
Like the waters of foregoing waves
They stopped by to let me know…

“Those dreams that you saw once
That music they played then,
Those hues they brushed once,
Those moves they danced around…

You dropped those dreams
Lying on the back yard of your sleep
I watch them scuffle in cold
Fainting in the zone of stench.”

Answers…there aren’t
Lost and glum, I am.
I know no more,
For never I visit that lane again.

I’ve locked the back yard
Have lost the keys,
To a bunch of nomadic desires,
To some heaps of worldly feats,
To the hope of finding a bigger me…

And yet I have
even less of me…

Banks of time…
Urge me again…
“Free those dreams
Don’t let them go.
You’ll choke them
To win some lame game.
Yet again, you’ll misplace them,
Estrange them for strangers.”

I squabble in a rush
To free those dreams
From the dungeons and scum,
I place them on the mantle
of my mindless whims
I let them breathe,
Sing to me and unleash
Spurts of madness and
Dance of life,
Some scoops of naïve spirit,
Splashed colours and
Unabashed rythms.
The backyard is empty,
My sleeps cleaned,
Scrubs of time…
I thank thee.