Write a song and teach me
how not to be
afraid of isolation
that creeps in when I tumble on
empty grey sidewalks,
or that settles down
on faded ink of half-filled notebooks.
Teach me how to befriend,
how to make it a part of the skin,
of disoriented moments
that exists deeper
than the slow rush of blood
amidst weary veins and black charred bones.
Write me a song.
Make those moments, the life which was
an interesting piece of play..
a little more perpetual than the
the lies, the cries,
the people, the puppets, the hatred, the agony,
the miserable nights, the forced smiles,
the only me and the only you.
|Paused at Howra bridge, Kolkata|