Paper trails-Burnt ashes.
Lie smothering at my feet.
The embers spitting out the
Fire- my amber doubts aglow.
As I look down-
At the black remains,
With wonderment-
At what had caused me to chase thee.
My heart was never in it.
The empty papers speaketh words
Of hollow sweetness.
Of empty spaces.
Ka ching- Ah I hear it too.
But it all makes no sense to me.
As now I feel that I really,
Had not missed out on much.
'Coz my heart was never in it.
Driven by a primal instinct-
I follow the trails too-
Like my other primates.
The spiral bound dreams seem
So cloudless tonight.
The Steam- just empty gas.
My dreams of crystal-
Liquefy- as they bend to its pressure.
The ugly stench of burnt skin-
Of the many fingers-
That had touched the papers-
Invades my nostrils.
Closing down all my senses.
Not entirely defenceless-
I stare numb at the charred ruins.
"The paper holds their folded faces to the floor."
Yes- they tell me-
"Its a sin somehow-
That light is changing to shadow,
And casting its doubts-
Over all we have known."
But I beg to differ.
'Coz my my heart was never in it.
My dreams then perhaps
Are of a land-
Where the speechless may unite and rejoice-
In a silent of accord-
Of a chord which lies heedless-
Today-
In the dreams of the 'Proud.'
But I can pay no 'price'
For my pride.
I have just grown away-
And beyond all its mesmerizing folly.
On the wings of the night-
I have flown away from the
Days of empty smiles-
Of the pale and the downtrodden-
The upper societal sections-
And their greens.
My hungry heart shall seek
What it desires.
'Coz my heart was never in it-
So far.
