A Weeping Lad's Dream Poem by Shreyansh Swarnakar

Blue skies like blue eyes,
Attractive albeit deceptive.
Leaves of trees swaying in the breeze
That sweeps the embers conceived
Of the flares raining from above
Into the visage of all and sundry breathing,
To incinerate their vigour into ashes seething.

The earthen cooking-oven, now a furnace,
In the blue skies above is perpetually ablaze;
Dismissing a weeping lad's dream
To ramble by the pitiful parched stream,
To roll down the slopes of the adjoining hill,
To frolic, to bid adieu to a lifetime of standing still.

The lad shuts himself up in his chamber
And dreams of what they call decadent and oblivious.
Insignificant jibes hurled by insignificant others
Fail to encumber this lad's ascent
To what he believes must never be forsaken;
An opportunity which, at any cost, must be taken.

Etiolated, the lad envisions a mirage;
A jovial, lusty maiden with a secret as dark as his future.
He throws himself away morsel by morsel
Into a wishing well with nigh no boon to grant.
Love is a sunken ship in the sea of his life;
He is sceptical and indulges no more in such pursuit.

Nonchalant, ignorant, the lad slumbers
As the days slip by in alarming numbers.
The urge to wake up that had once surfaced
Lies dormant once again under a sea of unwillingness.
He is tentative and trusts not the future,
He is sensitive and revisits not the past.

The sky is in flames, simmering,
The retiring sun leaves the borders of clouds shimmering.
The lad has not woken, he sleeps still,
Dreaming the dreams he knows he'll have to kill.