Pratik Lohia

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Quondam

Rest, I say, in peace in your coffins,
But like zombies, they hurtle across.
Blindingly and so swift,
Untamable, like a whirlpool.
Within the winds of these carcasses,
I rise to no zeniths, but leave behind a deeper abyss.
Sunshine for a while,
I thought in the brightened reverie.
But eclipsed by the moon,
Dark shadows engulfed again.
I made peace, with the carcasses and their winds,
And their whistling, felt like a silent solace.
Lightened by the weight of my own hulk,
The pneuma of my being withered away.
Into a deeper peace, of a long known bliss,
Or of solemn pain, I care no way.

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