PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Last night

I journeyed with the moon

And some constellations

Across the sky

Where the sun bids goodbye

For some hours.

Inside me

It was my heart

And mind

And all perceptions

Faculties

And keener receptors

Of sight and sound

And the unseen

That kept revolving

In orbits of their own.

Has anybody got anything

To call his very own?

Has anyone managed to be

On his very own?

Anything?

Except the time granted

To keep moving and moving

In search of some one

Some one who we think

Is also seeking us?

The circling revolution

Of the living

And the non-living

Is a love story

Of everything searching

For someone its very own.

A saga of journeys

That keeps every body moving

In the heavens and the earth

Round and round

In the quest to find some one

To complement its own.

I saw Berenice's Hair*

I came across Cygnus*

I trailed on and on

Beyond Sagittarius*

And even further beyond

The realm of Aquarius*

Capricorn and Pisces*

Till I returned

To where my journey began

Along with the moon

At the station of Taurus*.

Inside me my blood

Had also returned

To the point in my heart

Where its own beat

Became self-conscious.

The night-trip ended

In a sad fascination

Of the great Genius

Who prefers to be

Alone and mysterious.

But I am not like Him

Nor is anybody I saw

In the circling cosmos.

A fickleness I traced

On a distant land

In a stone given

To a life of desolation.

But then I remembered

Even stones burst

When the quest for seeking

Their likeness makes

Water springs gush forth

To quench the living's thirst.

This stone that I saw

In a land faraway

Was struggling to burst forth

With emancipation.

This I know

Even if it knows not

That the secret of surviving

Lies in moving on

In a grand harmony

With everyone around.

I felt sorry for the stone

The stone lying alone

In a faraway distant land.

I felt sorry for the misery

It had brought on itself.

Enveloped in its self

In a state of queer

And abject loneliness.

Yet longing to be held

By some loving hands

Longing to be admired

For its fading beauty

And its waning glow

Yet unable to shine

Unable to radiate

Its decaying loveliness

Caught in a web

Of nurtured narcissism.

I felt sorry for that stone...

I feel sorry for that stone

Lying all alone

Unable to revolve and explore

Its own importance

In the scheme of evolution:

Cut off from the quest

Cut off from the path

Of finding its likeness

Of complementing itself

With someone its very own.