Through the cracks of silence,
And the pores of distance,
She peeks at the flashes of a memory dimmed.
Yet tonight seemed different-
As the candle light reminded her
Of a similar night
A couple of years back.
Drawn, by her own curiosity,
No longer frozenly withdrawn,
She lets the soothing silence steal over her-
As she hugs her knees to herself.
She lifts her eyes towards the ceiling-
Letting her mind draw the patterns,
And slowly as her thoughts gather form,
The face she had faded out for so long-
Regains shape and its arrogant structure.
The candle lit room show silhouettes in the wall,
And dark eyes, alight with un-denied desire.
She breathes in the smell she knew so well.
And lets it linger on for longer
As she giddily recollects greedily,
Of all that she'd felt then.
The ecstasy was sweeter,
In the knowledge of a forbidden territory.
Yet a secret shared and cherished for sometime,
Edged sharply by the duality of times.
The words that'd followed- mellow in the aftermath,
Had ringed with promises that one could trust,
But must not.
Yet intensely,
The moment was all of truth,
And strangely of a childish dream come true-
In itself, flavored with hedonism.
The face she knew so well,
Remained thus as a skeleton in her closet,
But her secret desire nevertheless.
The face, in all its darkness,
Could still bring a smile-
For the agreement was mutual,
Of being & keeping a secret well.
Yet...the agreement was with the duality of time,
ReplyDeleteMeandering with the shifty Constance..
While the structure created forms so arrogant,
Were they devoid of any situation - piquant?
In arrogance then must perish the silence,
ReplyDeleteAnd all the warmth cherished must languish-
For the times have meandered on further-
Yet Constance would lie in the Conscience ! :)
Silence is the canvas of all the rhythm,
ReplyDeleteWhere the forms and structures play.
Where warmth works incessantly with the sapient,
To humble whatever dons arrogance.
With meandering experience, matures the conscience!
like the last two lines :)
ReplyDelete@ Funny Baldy -
ReplyDeleteConstance would play its role as a structure,
While the wine wizened Conscience,
Would seek the explorer within-
Debunking patterns,
Meandering farther away - negating all odds.
And in this duality of times,
Steered by Experience,
Conscience would ally with Silence;
As the void would be filled
By the curious warmth,
That only Constance could shed.
@Ashwini - thankoo Achoo !! :)
Structures are but a projection of the self,
ReplyDeletePatterns : the elements -
Which carve a niche to create the forms...
The forms create the rhythm and the rhyme,
Which run with the experiential chime.
Constance shifts with the meandering music,
Silence lies unnerved -
As that is the founding stone and that is the cradle!
So where does the road go
ReplyDeleteAs the eye sees it?
Or beyond,
And away?
And where do they stand?
Constance and Conscience-
Intertwined or fragmented much?
Road takes us where we want to go,
ReplyDeleteEyes are just the receptors...
What we decide is what we recognise,
Is there a need at all to get these surmised?
Constance itself changes with Conscience -
So that the horizons keep moving beyond.
Intertwined as one to nurture the rhythm of the unknown,
What's a body without a soul?!
What lessons must Constance and Conscience,
ReplyDeleteImpart to the Heart?
Must it rue what is not true?
Or sing a new song anew?
Newness is but the outcome of the nurture,
ReplyDeleteTruth is a personal version of the reality.
When on the anvil is the fire of Silence,
Rhythm of creation cannot escape singularity.
Constance or Conscience is not what matters,
They are temporal, yet intertwined - they are One.
What matters is the space created between the forms,
That's what emanates when you are One with the Whole!
O head in clouds,
ReplyDeleteHow be it,
That you be the temporal lord of many hats?
How does it look from the other side,
When you look at Constance through Conscious' eyes ?
Largeness of hats hide the elixir,
ReplyDeleteCloud is just a chimera -
Should you look through - intently,
There is only this crimson aura!
Aura revealing the timelessness,
As that's the mind's fabric -
Wherein all the happiness resides,
And soulful serenity fits.
Is aesthetic only synthetic?
ReplyDeleteAnd pathways to being perverse to self?
How is it that
What we feel,
Must we hide-
Yet the lie we reveal as our identity-
We must glorify in its absurdity?
Is this the travesty
Of the travails,
That Constance seeks in its travels-
As it journeys through the perils
Of its own Conscience?