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.
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.
What inspirational thoughts. Empty your backyard.. live your dreams..Wonderful
ReplyDeleteScrubs of time... it pains when they unsoil you... but what you are left with afterwards is more of you, and less of what you inevitably tag along... as you walk on. I'm so glad your journey continues Shveta... it's a tragedy when you can't dream again... the spurts of madness keep us alive.. don't they? I wish you what YOU want... and not what I or anybody else wants for u. Hope you want a good sleep and a happy day :) I loved the poem!
ReplyDeletequite true feelings and very well put...this is what social conditioning does to us but then we also get the "banks of time" which help us see through the prism. Realising the worth and trivality of things around us. Enjoy the dreams and thank thee
ReplyDeleteThank you guys,two of my favourite people...know what i mean. Megha, life draws so much from you till you put your foot down and say..."i wanna lead an honets life."And i will,You get prudent and smarter but what's life if you look into the mirror and don't see "You."
ReplyDelete