Monday, January 9, 2017

Stop For Breakfast

The bus is slowing down. A stop for breakfast. Precious few moments to forget all about the destination!

Through the fumes that rise from a cup of the morning hot, the road swims at the distance, looking beautifully unreal. I sit opposite a man who has fallen silent and is yet to realize it. With an urgency of a one driven by an unstoppable lust, but with the stealth of a burglar, I enter and curl up in his pristine silence. Like a dog who sneaks into somebody’s blanket on a cold night. What I saw from a distance was just a mess of hair, rough unshaven face and tired eyes still sulking of a disturbed sleep. But all that was just the covering. Once inside, what I saw, was a slow, silent and a glorious sunrise. I had seen sun come up many times. But for the first time that I ever saw the phenomenon of a sunrise was in a stranger’s eyes.

Just a few moments before my heart broke once again as he reminded me of our estrangement by meeting me in the eyes with a warm smile saying ‘Hello!’.

The Roadside Tree

While the afternoon goes
and naps in your arms
We sit swatting
Random words and thoughts
Like flies!

In between
two wordless moments
A gentle breeze
Says ah!

A delicate quilt
of light and shade
Over the lone bicycle
that passes by..
My gaze follows like a dog,
Its rhythmic clinks!

Looking into your eyes
Waiting with infinite leisure to drop
And come swaying down
To rest in  your heart
Like a flower or a leaf!
On the edge of a cliff
Held up by the clouds
That hide the gaping mouth
Of oblivion

In the middle of a street
Run over
And buried
into a silence that looms over
all the noises
That run around like confused ants

Swaying on one leg
Hanging from a precarious branch
Risking life and truth..
I speak...

These words
that my breath carries
Sometimes from the depths of heart
Sometimes more immediate
Than a moment's sparkle in the eye

Though vapoury,
Like the tricks of a dream,
They are not like a mist
That never was

My lips only move
It is my heart that hopes
To relieve its ancient wound
 Through the ceaseless bleeding of words

Raining or trickling
A storm or a breeze
I uttered
only so that you hear

I uttered
only to breach
The unsurpassable walls
Of my body