By-Srilakshmi U Sirumath
Every breath you muster courage
to draw in, is but another anxious thought
that creates a havoc of your sanity.
Every thought twisting into
a plethora of suppositions and suspicions.
Every star wished upon,
only a pathetic, deceiving gaseous rock.
When, the golden sky is emanating hope and exuberance,
When, the agreeable wind has no snide remarks to make,
When, the vivid autumns leaves are descending
into a heap of bygones and anticipations.
When, all’s well with this world that’s spinning out of control,
Why then, there are doubts and voids swirling
Incessantly in that vastness of your mind?
Why then, a moment’s happiness is a cue
for tragedy to have its presence know?
Why then, wherever you go, there you are,
An aimless soul on a pointless journey.
Why then, the lucidity of life dwindles into haze
Over the agitated chatter of your mind?
Why then, hope is a flightless bird
unwisely yearning for the infinity?
Why then, even when amidst a place
brimming with so much existence and life,
I swim so passionately, deep into
the folds of solitude and withdrawal.
Why then, there lurks a scathing conscience that chants,
Is it the world that’s pulling away or is it I.
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This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn