Obticeō Poem by Orbindu Ganga

Knighted in the dawn
The encore soothes
The ears, the mind is
Vary with the whispers,
Smiling handshakes
Gliding through the aisle,
Words of appreciations
Flooded the gates
Chockablock with
Traces of the reminiscences.

The journey of fulfilment,
A joy of achievement
Layered on the periphery
Slowly sinking the mind
Gosh! ! ! What has been achieved?
The reflection of yestreen
Meanders like a river,
Full of pebbles, obstructing
The flow carried the smile
With joy, the pebbles are
Now the delight with forever.

But wait, where are they now?
Have they forgotten me?
Have I forgotten them?
The smile
The applause
The wishes
All have disappeared...
I made the endeavour
To see my day to be content
Never did I see
How I feel after
The accomplishment?
Never did I realise
How I feel after
The journey?
Never did I feel
How the day will be
After achievement?

Now, I am on a journey
In pursuit of my
Unknown self,
I never bothered
About her,
Being on the journey
Never realised her,
Chasing my dreams
Lost her,
The lessons are learnt
The hard way,
The rise and fall
Is imminent,
The vicious circle
Shall imbibe
The unseen
To the known,
Never to be realised
The known flow,
A day the realisation touches
Deep, the achievement becomes
A journey without substance.

I feel the early aroma
Misted in me, the thought
Refreshes the addendum
Of many droplets, trying to
Catch them, they smile
And leave the fragrance
Behind, to let the specks
Become the adsorbed.

The bud hearing the silence
Waiting for the thought
To be kissed, she is drawn
To the whispers of amour,
Smelling the fragrance
Of the silence, she is lit
To blossom, she opens
Her eyes to see the firmament,
Burping with the cumulus
She heaves
She sighs
Awed by canvas, the bud
Smiles with her colours
Gushing her fragrance
In the air, to whisper to
The wind, flexing him
To become a gale.
Hearing the flowers bloom.

Observing her play
The silence is withheld,
Never to be shown, only
To be felt and whimpered,
She adds her thoughts
To glide her suave in her way,
Being still so many
Expression in subtleness,
Carving her journey
Blowing the nectar
To be swallowed by
The unknown.

The headwater initiates
The flow, being smoothened
From the mountain, melting
The creams, bubbling up
From the mud, sliding and
Gliding along the slops,
Jostling the still, to them
To open the pores, letting
The hustle to bustle, they drive
To the corners, they remain silent
In themselves, not letting
The mayhem affects them.

Absorbing in the observation
Listening to the smiles
Of the bud blossoming,
Breathing the flower
Whispering to her amour,
Droplets kissing my cheeks
Near the waterfall,
Flowing in her ebb
To be in quietude
And gleaming.