the approaching dusk smiles at the scoops of floating cream,
the playful breeze tickles the distant coniferous stalks,
perched atop the rocky cliff on the barren charred soil
I sit,
hugging my pumping berry, tightly to my membrane
it denies to be shackled inside this scrawny cell,
the cracks and crevices falling apart, tiny morsels plunging with every whiff, every gust,
Some rolling down the rugged landscape,
some pushed by the breeze into the gorge below,
bruised I try to collect, manage a few scattered pieces,
they scream;
—–
wearing the dark cloak the sky finally shines
zillions of stardust light up the evening sky but the Jasmine is missing,
the howling waters beneath the cliff scare the timid me
darkness descends on my eyelids,
I’m yet to collect the strewn pieces, “some chunks lost, some flowed downstream, some dangling on the bare trunks”
a lump of white cream pours its saturated self on me
soaking me in its virgin waters, washing the last trace of yore,
the cranky breeze brushing against my brittle skin, unclog every pore
snatching away his final touch from this living carcass;
—
the village by the tranquil stream, at the distance looks calm, giggling and bustling with joy
perhaps, they must have scented the happiest fragments of my soul that drained there,
this place isn’t for me, even when amongst the crowd I feel lonely,
now even in the arms of nature, I can’t breathe, anguish chokes the throat, the soul isn’t spared,
when will the distress cease, when will the pain bid adieu to this spirit,
when will the heart again glide in the happy sky, when will the eyes shed tears of joy,
unsung songs, unwritten alphabets, unsaid words, inexpressible emotions, blank empty scripts, yet to be deciphered,
with a bereaved heart and salty cheeks, I wait,
the drained soul waits for a miracle, to again hear your footsteps, to open the door before you knock,
but till then I rest, and plea, till then, “Leave me alone, I can take no more!”π
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