Treasure Island

Ananta Madhavan


Axle


Draped like a dream the universe expands,
Fragile and fugitive, it flees the dark centre,
Blown away in skeins of gossamer
As stardust and sunlight, moonbeam and earth-glow,
Aflutter like a cosmic banner.


And now, the bald centre, deserted,
Slipped from its cataclysmic binding power,
Itself deserts the axle role,
Dissolves, disintegrates to several causes,
Releasing Chaos from its own nature,
Adrift upon a lunatic nightmare.


But this is not the measure of my time.
I am securely anchored to a grooved
Orbit of days and seasons. I shall hold
Fast to my functions, my place in the sun,
Observer, object, subject, substitute
For the vanishing void in the centre.

Submitted: Sunday, April 20, 2014

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Topic(s): nature

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

A young man's quest for identity and meaning in life.

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