Arveent Srirangan

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Whimpering Of A Lonely Soul

I hear voices
coming from nowhere
emanating from nothingness
penetrating into the deepest core
of my soul,
healing every wound,
exorcising each sorrowful thought
that has continued to haunt me
in this life, in which I thought I was free
only to discover the routine mundanity of it
that cages me inside glass
from which I see the wonder
that I can never experience
only dream of.

I was taught by my elders
every day of the week
to seek the truth of my existence
to hunt for the reasons
for my life in this world...
Huh, what a fool I was
to think of a higher meaning
a message from the heavens,
one of love and importance,
when all the truth I had gathered
was that this world is not one
where I can live in peace
or live at all.

Now I sit here,
with the graves around me covered
with an inch of snow,
always alone,
for no one has ever been a friend
and those who claimed to be
were worse than Judas.
Only the voices have been my company,
comforting me, teaching me,
advising me.
And they tell me the truth,
that death is ultimate,
and that life is but a dream
of a shadow
stranded in an abandoned circus.
It fools the shadow to believe
in something beautiful
only to end so abruptly
when the darkness comes
and the shadow fades.

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