We spun, trapped in a pane,
Through stars that we rarely saw
But took for granted
And I am far less haunted by the memory
Than the ideal
Which rends my dreams
And cannot be maintained, like a handful of hourglass sand
Like life
Desire and possession
Bind and divest
Body and soul
Then onward we flip and dance
Pulse and repulse
In fission and ands
Through the color force
Across apathetic distances, minimally indifferent
Never sleeping
Never waking
Like afterlife
Beautifully presented about loss of freedom in life due to lack of awareness. Excellent work shared on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you for your comment, Bhargabi. This poem is, in fact, rather about living with a costant and proximate reminder of loss that is carried inside oneself. I am glad you enjoyed it.