Floating On Ink

| Posted in , , , , | Posted on 11:49 PM

1

Where are you, savant - oh learned one?
Where to did your shadow scurry?
A sapient you were,
Are you still? 
Did you reach the shore?
Why, I've been left at the sea.


The raft broke as you left,
And the logs untied, one by one
Until a few were left underneath me.
But they too swam away, with gentle poise.
I grabbed one; stuck to it like glue.


Then the water did us apart...
And since I've been floating, 
Floating on ink;
There is nothing inside of me anymore.
The logs on which I rested, they shrunk;
The oars rest at the bottom of the sea.
And yet, I swim.


I should've trusted you, held your hand 
When you said you would ferry me 
To the other side...
But now you're gone and I'm still floating,
Floating on ink.


What did I do to deserve this?
These waters, they move but are stagnant;
They rock, they sway,
But the shore still remains much far away.
What did I do to deserve these meaningless waters?


The logs start sinking,
Slowly, passively;
As if at the end of the sea,
A different life awaits them.
I see your face too, ye old sage;
You wave to me as you disappear with them.


And as I scour the horizon,
I fail to find any;
There is no shore at sight,
The dark blue waters stretch indefinitely.


And what am I to do in these dark blue waters?
I shuffle my hands, paddle.


And I wonder what lies there, 
On the shore?
What lies at the bottom of sea?




X-x-X

There Was A Bird

| Posted in , | Posted on 10:59 PM

0

There was a bird, I saw
On the windowsill the other day.
It was blue, I remember, the lightest possible shade;
Its beak black as night, and eyes full, righteous and unbiased.
A darker hue ran along the girth of its small back,
Wide at first, then at the tail collapsing;
Its feathers were wet from the rain outside.

Dreamily I looked on,
At its silvery silhouette, its petite largeness
Its clear, cloudy eyes.

For a second, it stood still
Then the next it shook, with graceful vigour,
And little droplets of water fell on the pale marble floor.

It looked staight into my eyes a moment after,
With its eyes full, righteous and unbiased.
And then swiftly off the windowsill, it flew away.

And I watched it fly away, from the corner of my eye.
I saw its lustrous wings in flight;
Its silver silhouette as it became obsolete,
Wondering where it went.

And in a while, came another bird,
It too sat down on the windowsill.

And Dreamily, I looked on,
At the edge of its beak sharp as a knife,
Its solemn eyes dotted with yellow;
The magnificent red on its feathers fondling with a gravely back.

X-x-X