Existing out of sight.
A beating heart sees no return,
of summers without a sweat of worry,
time that is not on lease,
or a rerun of a show from a decade ago.
Of winters, of warmth,
under the blanket,
in the blood that flows in the toes.
In rows for hours, in search for a sight
of flesh that's still bright, of colour at birth,
and not grim with scars thawed by fear, running from the last spot;
of a smile that resounds in eyes of another,
of joy shared, laughs under a common shed, or hours away in separate beds.
And at dawn, when clarity surges, mind deems
even the most scared connection as false.
The afternoon, mind wanders, thoughts phase out,
some hope is lost.
In evening when the house is full again,
the tables drown in warm lights and across, on either side
this time with an unruly silence;
where did the mind hide again,
behind a faith of the blind?
What we warned the world against, became our plight.
Once 'to be' had become a daily routine after all.
The mystique was gone,
how long could a norm have been followed
before someone realised that it'd been a foreign mind's dream.
The cause of a piece slightly off the grid,
while a warm light falls, from the bulb, with the warm evening sun,
a sickening encounter of the human ambition with the One.
And in deep sighs, we gaze out at the last thing intact,
a sprawling, lively backyard.
The wind flows, and up an arm, of the tree
veiled away from sight,
a bird cried.
Sudden wind,
from higher peaks up north.
In some other grid, that went complete,
fell over the other.
The wind took me by,
the stronger one within us, took charge,
it was their duty after all.
In the cage they were in,
some rules were clear;
Every page was inspected, with first instigation of suspicion, called trust;
The times of departure and arrival could become a cause of quarrel.
And nothing but the key could turn the door open, that rested
in a single room that was lit by a sterile pale light,
at night and off during the day,
when I remained calmly rested,
while the tamed beast went out of sight
from the eyes that closed, in sync of an owl;
To the spectacle of no-one,
the windows welcomed daylight.