The Fragrance Of Life Poem by Preeth Nambiar

The last drop of the poison from the tumbler tight on my fingers is quivering upon its edge to dip on to the floor. I am drunk and the sweet intoxication has conquered the body, but I can still hear raindrops falling from the leaves to the ponds of muddy waters playing the sweetest notes of music. I wish if a drop of it fall on my lips dried of thirst; I wish I could once again hold the grills of the window and remain looking at the distant skies caressed by a sweet breeze that would touch me, the fingers of motherhood.

My breath has disappeared unto the distant wind that would perhaps feed the leaves beyond these walls; my vision has dissolved in the darkness of the sun that would open its eyes as a new dawn with bright light; I have given my warmth to the pigeons that are brooding in the chill of rain; I shall give this flesh to the mystic flames who would fill their belly and retire to ashes; Alas! Here is the space that I occupied for a lifetime as of a butterfly, O skies take this back while my lips tremble to pay gratitude!

My Lord, here I go from the deepest silence of life to the serene awakening of lifelessness! I am no more the part of earthly vigour, but the part of supreme consciousness- the void. Quietness penetrates into the numb cells and I needed a blanket to cover this body. Let me cover my vision that would hurt by the brightening rays of dawn; let me close my ears that would be distraught by the loudening noise. Let me enjoy the sleep as I slept upon the lap of my mother long back, squeezing the nectar of immortal love.

There are fireflies glittering amidst the thick green in this night, O dears come on and dance gracefully around me! Let me wait right here with a body as chilled as winter, until in the morning there are men who would carry me right unto the land where there are thirsty fires burning flesh. Upon the woods, when the corners are lit with the noblest fire, fear not O dear, for you were born out of flames, the intense longing of life's own passion. Keep a piece of wood of sandal upon me, for here is a life that loved fragrances!

A piece of sandalwood that would bring you the fragrance of this life!

(c) Preeth Nambair