The Road Has Come To An End (Dt Mar'09) - Poem by Sanjukta Basu
The road has come to an end. This is the end of the beginning, and this is the beginning of a new end.
In this road nothing excites me anymore,
nothing makes me happy,
nothing makes me sad.
I feel numb. Comfortably numb.
Oh dammit did you see,
in this road I lost my creativity.
All the feelings I feel are already woven into songs,
this Floyd, that Cobain.
I don’t wanna walk this road no more,
here all I have is broken images, scattered thoughts.
I hallucinate, I see things that signify emptiness.
I see dry leaves, empty desert,
thorny bushes, dry ponds, hungry dogs.
I hear voices in my head,
they are all sad songs, poems,
they all have the same tunes
that of dullness.
Whatever I eat they all taste the same,
that of ocean.
In my sleep I dream I am naked.
Naked in a crowd, sharp eyes on me,
sometimes I try to hide,
sometimes I look straight in their eyes.
It’s my soul I bare,
but all they see is the body.
They come near me,
they touch me poke me turn me around,
lift me up and hang me upside down,
like a freak show on the highway,
they stop by for a while,
some leave too soon, some take time.
This road is not rough,
not worth treading anymore.
This road is perfect, perfection is a sad state of being.
Put the last brick on the wall, creativity ends there.
That last stroke of a brush in a more than perfect frame
is an end to the artist’s imagination.
A book when read and closed puts an end to knowledge,
we stopped learning the day we graduated,
we stopped loving the day we took the vows.
Why do I then want perfect love?
Why do I then run away from crossroads and mazes?
I don’t. I just solve them too soon and they disappear.
It pains when they disappear.
So I don’t bother anymore.
So where do I go from here?
Drift, the world is round anyway.
Alright then, I’ll see you at the end of the world.
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