[I spilled some of me in this poem. Some of the moment.]
Once, I gave my all.
And now they leave me empty.
Not whole, not even an ounce.
All I called mine, drifts away,
And I say I renounce!
...And in this infatuating darkness
of the evanescent moonlight,
I celebrate the birth of light
with the birthpangs of an uncertain dawn.
At this moment
when all ceases to be,
I celebrate my non-existence.
I sing a song.
A song of the midnight sun.
A faded out meaning
of the ineffable,
still lingers, languidly
in the hollow word,
of language and its translated beauty.
The lost cadence,
of cosmic indulgence,
still slumbers its rhythm
in the echoing depth,
of a man’s consciousness.
The song of eternity,
of infinite life,
though smothered into a groping lullaby,
still renders its remnants,
to the seeking palm
of the hesitant man.
A vague cry
from deep within a man’s chest,
still seeks its echo
in the ancient hallway
of a life-less wisdom,
but alive-
with a fragile vulnerability
of a creator’s pulse.
in this futility
of the spasms of existence,
some cobwebs,
still unstirred,
support this life of mine,
in their indelible words
of a forgotten wisdom.
the aum-kaar
that spur as the first voice,
of the created universe,
still echoes in my veins,
and arrives in the pupil of my eyes,
as the secret of my being.
in the constant chaos,
of this holocaust that my innerworld is,
as some shooting debris,
my emotions evolve,
and stamp their thunder,
as the pugmarks on the moon.
and the scattering stardust
is the ashes of my long lost
sputtered incarnations
heaving softly,
each time the creator breathes….
