Pratibha Badgal
She sits by the water trying to ignite a fire,
Stones that she holds are bruising her hands,
The winds blows gently as if to express her need so dire,
Sparks arouse and die as she chants;
Her raw dreams lay beside her,
Cleaned, marinated but yet to be cooked,
She lost her right to be sober,
The moment she daydreamed;
She was drunk and stargazing,
Her hunger long lost,
Eyes no longer like the embers blazing,
Her soul, a sufferer, a hungry beast;
A sip away from reality,
And there stood Dionysus,
A God summoned before time,
Full of vitality,
Raging he said, "Ignite a fire, cook these dreams and only then you shall find Dionysus by your art, your rhyme,"
So there she was tired, angry and on the verge of tears,
Despair, darkness, failure ready to embrace her,
A prisoner to her ignorance and fears,
The wagon to success ready to leave her;
It's when the queen of wands in her unleashed,
And She knew, she knew that the fire is within,
She is the ignition to her passions unflurled,
Ascendent to the throne, Dionysus to her craft, she is both the soul and the skin...