The Call Of Syrena

Prachi Singh

Fading halos of colorful lights
Filter through tresses of calm midnight,
Mesmerizing the seaman fighting the sails
In accordance with the ruthless wind, to fly away.
The hoax calm envelopes caution,
Making way for the dangerous anticipation,
'O Lord! What is it I yearn?' voices the man.
Desperation lacing each word spoken
The swaying mast slows to a creak,
Giving way to an eerily haunting music.

A lilting tune from far breaks the melancholy,
Yet complements the beats of sailor's heart.
Cold shiver wracks through the mere mortal's body,
Leaving, a never residing gooseflesh, a work of art.
Glazed eyes, parted lips and with heavy lids,
The human glides on to the fatal edge.

A tangle of ropes clings to his feet as last wedge,
Between the throes of insurmountable water
And an easy breath.
Tugged away harshly from the inevitable,
The man gasps, as the curtain of delusion parts,
Realisation of incoming peril never far behind.
As the words of a serenade come calling again,
The enchanting voice belies the pain
The temptress tries hard to mask
Behind the poetry of the sweet song-

"O love of mine, thou are faraway,
doth join bidding for heart canst not live
a minute longer 'i thy absence,
for thou are mine only dream
mine deepest of summon,
mine reason to breath,
i hast waited for thy love,
all mine lifetime
thy sight only can ease mine pain,
can grant me unbound happiness,
o love of mine doth join bidding
doth take the leap
join for me
i've been waiting for thou
for thou are mine only dream,
mine deepest of summon,
mine reason to breath,
i hast waited for thy love
all mine lifetime"

The mortal basking in his uncommon restrain
Turned the wheel around for the shore.
"I have conquered what no man has" the man swore,
Later at a pub full of drunk fishermen
"I disregarded the call of syrena" he boasted.

As he stumbled on his way to his abode,
The silvery sound came calling with the wind-
"O love of mine, thou are faraway..."
The mere mortal tripped and broke into a run,
A melodic laugh dogging his each turn
For the call of death never lost its prey.

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