The Boulevard Poem by Ajit Das

Sometimes I feel I am facing a dead end,
unable to look into the distant future.

A cage of stone walls, gutters underneath,
woods obliterated, hills intercepted
by bellowing smoke paint a bleak backdrop,
creating an image of the captive present,
holding me entangled in a net of wiles.

Suddenly I hear whispers in my ears,
coming from afar aloft a gust of wind
laden with fragrance of blooming flowers.
Waves of light streaming in lift the dark.
Boundaries vanish; chains fall away.

From memories leading into the unknown
over the bridge of now, the road seems
one single stretch uninterrupted, radiant.