By Avinanda Kayal
I looked to the heavens above, I wished upon my faith.
A veil of stardust shone ablaze
I picked up a can of paint, thought I'd draw,
A wall of colour so shiny and bright.
A wall of achievements made of silver and gold.
As I searched for the stars of happiness beyond joy,
I stared into the sunken pits of a mother's eyes.
Her shadow of gloom and shattered shards of her soul,
a cloud that cast a ghastly fog.
I gazed at my hands, dripped in white paint.
Then I looked around and saw,
Instead of colours, I had painted the long walls.
A concrete prison with a ceiling up in the darkest pits.
No heavens, no stars in sight.
With my bare hands, I had
Alas! constructed a museum I had.
A museum of failure they called.
"Don't fly too high, close to the Sun"
Icarus had been warned.
But, he still flew to steal the orbs of gold.
In his hands would lie the golden treasure of the sky.
His mind, a haze, he licked the flames,
And burnt, oh how he fell.
Jackals, they yap as the prey withers to ash.
An exhibit of how I bled,
How the thorn made me bleed.
Oh, was it really my blood?
Or was it a rose that greeted my guests?
Jackals they yap, as the prey withers to death.
I lay in my prison
Stories of success, all a dune in time.
The walls glared back, a reminder they were.
I prayed to the heavens above, but the walls remained locked.
As I rot in my blisters, I screamed a silent cry,
Of pain, oh how my passions burnt.
They all tread and marched ahead,
My body a mural in time,
To be forgotten,
To be called the fallen star.
Locked I will always be, behind these walls
Of the museum of failure, there I am stuck.
As Calypso wails with her ghosts,
On an island lost in a storm.
Icarus I once was,
But Calypso cursed my soul.