On Sunday afternoon visits of innocence
In the shadiest alleys of destiny will my hope creep upon,
like rivulets of a withering spirit,
Those shards of my confused spirit deep within,
split into a million shred pieces of light, timidly seeking its respite at the break of dawn;
Like in the breeze, feathers cradling down the wind like dancing glow worms that last just a winter night
Will my wings spread upon tinted horizons..
Like the Nimbus clouds will I rule the sky, unafraid to shatter the earth with it’s tremouros drizzle, and unending shower that kisses the soul of ocean hearts.
Like gazillion metaphors that unravel the labyrinths of my skin and my music and my musings and what not,
my wings upon the skies will soar past epilogues and soliloquys and long lost tunes
and small little conversations that brought sense to the world and sometimes drowned it all away with all that noise.
And then would my fury rise like wild fire,
from among the rotting roots of dear old trees,
that hug the soul of earth’s dark dungeons, where all those monsters under my bed creeped up only at night to steal my innocent childhood slumber;
And my music will search for the unfathomable hunt of long lost innocence and plaintive streaks of love,
up until the upturned goblet of sky sends its postmen to earth
and high till i touch it’s timid stars ,
that play hide and seek like children of the darkest dusky twilight when the mother calls them back home from play;
Like how lost lovers search in a crowd for that shred piece of their soul- safe in someone else’s wallet or photo albums or memoirs from a fragmented dream,
I will search boundless for the utter meaning of things,
above and beyond what the world in its mundane hola-hooping can offer to my blind eyes when i open them- trying to look but never to see the omnipresent manifestations of small little charms that fail to steal my attention, only to ruminate on my ignorance with 3am coffees;
And shall my soul sing aloud, that one song,
long forgotten rhyme of mine,when I find you,
that’ll rattle the sky and earth once for all ;
And then, will my naked music embrace those words
so intimate that you cannot possibly fathom.
Meanings and epiphanies will fill my night and day and lonely daydreams.
Endless shall be my epilogue,
An ode shall be my muses and fancies and wish lists not waiting to be bought and sold over and over again again all by plastic cards,
and yet will remain known only to the true traveller who will leave all he owns and hunt for meanings all around, empty-handed.
I will be him once and for all.
Till then, my worship will seep within stories and stones and small little reminiscences of paint brushes and the dusty smell of old books that long to be owned by its ardent lover and not just a passing collector with their large wooden mahogany shelves.
To long lost tunes, and far forgotten words of deafening silence, when you kiss and
To the curses of dawn-time musings and questions that rouse the soul shall I owe, my long lost innocence whose short Sunday afternoon visits, I have almost learnt to embrace.