Debacles of Destiny, ah … so many, so many
Lay before me.
… As I lay basking in the mornlight
Crude, the lassitude of early born
Lost in an ocean smeared with bright
Viscous clouds –
Oft in quietitude, thoughts the mind lone,
Not silently …
Crippling thoughts with lances
Crowd; on horsebacks they stand.
Shouts they, my ruined End,
Loudly … loudly –
Wind in the
… When sprouts to stay again in
Me, from somewhere less behind,
Like some playthings that unwind –
With loud drums and dreary din …
The wind’s worst remnants I find.
When comes to the half-slept mind,
Back, oft, dark dark reveries –
Rival Life’s young victories.
It is as though I’m the
Past written beforehand.
Read so easily –
– Was that when drunken dreams to the light
Where – how deep servitude of absence
Leads me unto –
Dreams those that on strained eyes of night
What odd things, Solitude-the-Shrewd Mess
Turns me into –
Tentacles of Destiny, that … oh wind me, oh blind me
End, is it Me?
Posted by Akhil