From where comes this sudden calm...? One wonders, if the storm now tired of raging, decided to fade away...or the waters lay still, awaiting the wildest of tempests. And the unnatural tranquility persists... in the unstirring air...in the soundless night...in the languid glimmer of the crescent moon...in the lone red star surrounded by a galaxy of white sparkling stars... in the single line that stands right out of a beautiful song... in the simplicity of a melody, that sounded unreasonably complex before the calm...always reflecting the mind.
Why comes this clarity...? Only when boundaries are stretched...only when the mind is disillusioned into futile pursuits...only when vestiges of pledges to the self, allure, but mockingly...only when the horizon beckons, full of promises never to be...promises a tad too late...a tad too early.
With what comes this new found hope? With the aching truth of the words that came from the believer's mouth...or the guarded embrace that brought a myriad of heartbreaks out into that fateful lament...or the finality of an almost lost cause?
Now what? Does the gamble continue to let that see-saw see all means of parallelism? Is it going to be a yes, or a no, or is it going to be much more? Does the breeze blow one way, and make you sway...and sway...and sway? Is that assymetrical slant going to light up all the silver, or blur it all out? Is 'poetry' just not in the equation anymore? If the seeds don't grow, and the ship doesn't stow, should the river still flow where the current goes? And will the river banks hold on in all patience?
Poetry...feeling it. Wanting it. Cherishing it. Welcoming it. Embracing it. And holding on to it, for time everlasting.
No fair trade...
Songs for the moment - Aaromale.
Yours "Did they get you to trade... your heroes for ghosts?"ly