I was again lost in your innocence
When you didn’t ask me why
Your anger looks so complete
For both of us
That it doesn’t need words
Like that expression on your face
As natural, as reactive,
As life is supposed to be
You speak when you feel
You react when you have to
A freedom so natural to us
Yet we have to crave for it
In a life, driven by compulsions
We have almost forgotten
What it is about being a human
Our broken souls do cry inside
But in a painted world
Where we selectively cry
As it is invitational to its semiotics
And so to our inhibitions
When I see you o childhood
I realize what I have lost in life
And I go through this grind so often
(An August 2010 work, rearranged and rewritten today.)
Sometimes beginning the day with a whisper,
Sometimes with a cry,
Sometimes gaping in the void,
At times beginning it with an innocent invite.
Cruising into the myopic state of your bionic reflections,
Jaded by the hyperemia,
The ephemeral circumvention of the moment,
Drawn away from the routine empirical hysteria.
To the cerebral existence of the self-efficacious creation,
To that fleeting vision,
You never knew when it took you into its embrace,
As you just reacted naturally, like you do always.
The sudden trance that it takes you into,
Away from the oversized clutches of the trite,
Dragging away, disconnected,
Liberating to the elementary momentary amnesia.
There comes a time,
When debates become primordial,
When the need of solutions become unreal.
Why don’t you stay forever transcending me,
To the realms of that fading Ideal.
©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/