Unknown Horizons Poem by PRAVEEN KUMAR English Poems

I know not what I am,
I know not from where I come;
I do not know where I go,
Why I go, or how I go.

Mysterious past and lightless future,
All I know, where sits the transient present
In ceaseless, facile succession, like
The glow of the Sun in ceaseless move
On Untested, dark eternal course,
Or the sojourn of Self along the existence,
Or running train on its unending track.

Time comes and does in endless spurts
While merely touches the life as present;
Though strung in a string of existence
Of time's nostalgic experience; present,
Like winning horse on race course,
Remains itself and draws all eyes
Like fireworks in dark night
Along the lanes of past and future
Forever.

The tunnels of the past are mysterious yet,
The vast space of future is unfamiliar yet.

As a forlorn amnesiac, lost
In bare tracts of sandy desert
On a moonless night,
I know not for what I laugh or weep,
Or run or sit in stony silence;
Rough winds blow across the land, and
Sand storms rise to settle on new strips,
Chill bores bones, yet, I
Should walk stark naked all along
Where tired two legs carry the load
In endless sojourn
To unchartered tracts along the lengths
Of timeless time.

The past did make me as I am,
The past did make me as I am,
The past did make me as I am, while
The future will give new strength

Time bred and always fed
All lives, its strength and soul in,
All lives, its strength and soul in,
Its own mysterious mould.

Subtle roots are embedded ‘neath firm treat of the past.
And uncertain shoots spread afar
In the sky of future
While the solid trunk marks the advent of times
In circles behind thick bark;
None know what fruits or flowers it bear,
None know what fruits or flowers it bear,
Nor the roots show nor the shoots speak
While the trunk is dumb like its thick bark,
While the shell of time is as hard as time itself.

It grows in lonely grandeur,
Dunny, lame, blind and dumb;
The spurts move from the past to future
As led in leash by the time's subtle hands;
Or is it a rootless goalless sojourn
And endless too through infinite time?
Is it mindless, meaningless flux
Of the roll of roles and interactions
On the shapeless canvas of frameless time?
What is time and what is space
Where the present sinks to the world of Being,
Neither time knows nor space knows, yet;
The present streams out in joyous ignorance
While the Self sails through the sea of time
On high and low tides and waves
In search of nonexistent shores;
The shores are unreal,
The sea, unending and the sail
Sails on and on beyond birth and death
On time's tides and waves
In silent abandon to
Unknown horizons.

I neither sink nor float, but move
For motion's sake;
I neither move nor go still, but give up
To tides those hold me in seize.