‎five Years Beyond The Murmur Of Time Poem by Prabir Gayen

‎Five Years Beyond the Murmur of Time
‎ Prabir kumar Gayen
‎
‎Five years have passed—and with them
‎Five seasons of hope unharvested,
‎Five long corridors of aspirations
‎Fading into an unnamed dusk.
‎Five years of life bearing no fruit,
‎Five years of experience
‎Ripening into the taste of no experience.
‎Between each second
‎Were woven the wrathful threads
‎Of pain and recurring enigma.
‎Five years of encircling darkness
‎Broken only by trembling gleams
‎Of reluctant restoration.
‎Upon the debris of unfinished becoming
‎Only the dome of despair was raised,
‎Built with wordless murmurs
‎Echoing through hollow chambers of breath.
‎Five years of life
‎Without the fragrance of living.
‎It was a lost life,
‎Wandering through a deserted province of being,
‎Where time was spent
‎Like sand slipping through a clenched fist.
‎Hopeless and purposeless
‎Yet secretly journeying toward
‎That goalless Goal,
‎That shoreless shore
‎Where mind dissolves into its unborn source.
‎Perhaps the Kingdom of the Eternal
‎Unfolded its hidden fragrance by accident,
‎Like an unseen blossom opening
‎In the night garden of unconscious prayer.
‎It was a lost life,
‎Yet not lost like the buried continents
‎Of forgotten civilizations,
‎But hidden beneath the fever of weariness,
‎Veiled by the fret of restless becoming,
‎Waiting behind the bushy inland wilderness
‎Secretly nested within the mind.
‎Five years dissolved in utter silence,
‎Struck by unnumbered blows of immeasurable pain.
‎Moments grew heavy,
‎And that heaviness slipped quietly
‎Through the corridors of existence.
‎Long-cherished hopes
‎And desires yearning to become desireless
‎Collapsed into the dark abyss
‎Of passionate dispassion.
‎Each day carried the signature of despair,
‎Each moment slipped deeper
‎Into the bottomless chasm of vanishing.
‎Before the end could arrive,
‎The end had already reached the threshold—
‎Knocking softly upon the fragile door of the heart,
‎Pointing toward the final dissolution.
‎The harmonious whisper of wandering winds,
‎The morning birds weaving hymns of awakening,
‎The waves chanting their ageless mantra,
‎And the silent symphony concealed in blossoms,
‎All lost their language of meaning.
‎The womb of eternity closed its petals.
‎The gateways of infinity folded into stillness.
‎Once, drops of dew
‎Invited the heart
‎To pause and sip the honey of the Unknown.
‎Once, the mind hovered breathless
‎At the edge of immeasurable depth.
‎Now, even sensation has forgotten
‎How to feel its own existence.
‎Five years have passed,
‎Carrying away all that was pure,
‎Sublime,
‎And silently illuminating.
‎Yet the cooling streams of Nature remain,
‎Flowing through every fibre of creation:
‎In the veins of trees,
‎In the secret pulse of waters,
‎In the concealed fire within stones,
‎In the burning galaxies hidden
‎Behind mortal eyes.
‎
‎The ancient songs still flow,
‎The eternal chant of wisdom,
‎The ageless hymns of primordial seeing,
‎Flowing like mountain springs
‎That sing through autumn
‎While sleeping inside winter
‎And flowering secretly in the womb of summer.
‎
‎Only I have departed quietly,
‎Unaware of time's silent theft,
‎Writing the poem
‎Of my own vanishing.
‎After awakening from this long slumber,
‎Life appears as a sun
‎Descending toward the western silence,
‎Finding no witness upon the shore.
‎The festival of existence
‎Has folded its colourful tents,
‎Departing without farewell,
‎Slipping behind the invisible curtain
‎Of the inner sky.
‎
‎The rivers have fulfilled their pilgrimage
‎By merging into the vast ocean of unnameable Being.
‎Only a few ponds remain,
‎Separated from the eternal current,
‎Awaiting their gentle evaporation
‎Into the invisible heavens.
‎Still they breathe beneath soft-shadowed trees,
‎Offering cool water
‎To wandering strangers of destiny.
‎
‎Now the hour has ripened.
‎The call has deepened.
‎The final gesture has blossomed.
‎It is time
‎To say farewell,
‎To descend like mist
‎Into the immeasurable silence.
‎
‎@Prabir Gayen
‎15 Feb /2026/8: 35 AM