Buried under sands from an hour-glass and separated
by hours and hours of desert in between
we feel as if the moon runs parallel
to a horizon we chase but cannot see
its the night that honks like a drunken taxi-driver,
who knows the serpentine road chases tales left behind
by all those running against the tide of time-
following signs left by long lost lonely lovers
oh the trail is long and twisted,
convoluted and the signs are only disguised among and as stars
few and far in between;
just as intermittent is the sound,
indistinct from the nightly noise
indifferent to the terror and joy it brings to our hearts-
the sound of the drunken taxi-driver honking
as if to remind us that the journey's just begun
its the sound of the night singing
honk-honk honk honk-honk honk-honk honk - honk
bellowing out just for the two of us.
- suraj sharma
- my mind, therefore, becomes this outstretched field of immeasurable serenity, which, although illuminated at angles awkward and unfamiliar to my eyes - is neither dark nor twilit. The strange lighting turns the vacuous foreplay of shadows chasing shadows into an euphoric, almost utopian feeling which is held in suspension as long as this configuration of appearances beckons the restlessness of reason ever forward into the uncharted hinterlands of imagination while at the same time compelling me to bless the lighting director.
3 comments:
What a unique love poem-- I really admire your use of meter. The imagery here is startling as well.
Thank you, Jade.
<3 <3 <3
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