Love Poem for the Romantics

What is it about the romantics

That makes them so charming?

Perhaps it’s their ability to make

Ordinary things

Extraordinary

Fantastic

Universal 

Precious.

'Love is God.’

‘Truth is God.’

'Reason is God.'

Perhaps they let us

All believe that 

Even 

Our small lives 

Can be 

Glorious.

There is courage

In being romantic, I think.

It takes a certain type of person

To hope 

So much

That it is 

Infectious.

No wonder it's

So dangerous

So callous

So deeply feared.

For romance 

To survive

To spread

It must collapse difficult questions

Into emotions

And answers

That give prescriptions

No one truthfully understands.

It must make us believe 

We all are

More than specks of dust-

That life is not

Arbitrary.

It must convince us that

We matter.

Struggle must have value,

How else will Love win in the end?

How else will we will we find a point

In winning?

Belief in significance is

The opioid of the weary.

We search for answers

In love

In hope

In dreams

In reason

In regret-

Because all of us

Can love

Will hope

Still dream

Try reason

Have regret.

But when have answers

Laid in the universal?

No love is the same.

No hope is the same.

No dream, reason or regret is the same.

Yet we desperately seek comfort  

In being understood-

In being collapsed.

Don't too many of us

Have strong opinions

On how to live

A sensible life?

We could all be correct

Or wrong

And it would be equally meaningless

And meaningful

To strive for more

Or less.

There's an arrogance to suppose

This world unfolds

With sense.

There's a hopefulness to want

This world unfolds

With sense.

There's a necessity to believe

This world unfolds

With sense.

All we have is

What we 

Feel and

Comprehend.

So we must keep alive
The romantics amongst us,

The paramores

The plumbers

The politicians

The pontifiers

The poets.

Only the audacity of romance,

However dangerous,

However paradoxical,

Gives us all

Something to live for.

Chaos Theory: Lorenz Attractors
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Lorenz_system_r28_s10_b2-6666.png

Silence

Silence
Gently falling like an autumn leaf
Red, yellow and green
In a large crowded room
Shrunken with people huddled together for
The warmth of company
In their chic clothing and
Tightly held wine glasses.
I wonder if they too secretly
Thank climate scientists
For gifting us longer conversations
About the weather.
The chattering mutes out
The noises in the head.
There is heat in this silence that
I'm comfortable with.

I do not want real silence.
That would mean a real conversation.
It would mean I would I have to listen.
It would mean I might have to change.
Again.

The problem with real conversations
Is that they end.
They end
And you are left with only words.
Only words
To string up the thoughts to
Justify your actions.
Your actions
That create more questions
Than give you answers.
Answers
That you keep trying to
Find in real conversations.
Real conversations that only end with words...
Words that can't string your thoughts...
Thoughts that don't justify actions...
Actions that create more questions...
Questions with no answers in words-
Words in real conversation-
Real conversation that doesn't string-
Strings that don't justify-
Justify all the questions-
Questions in real conversation-
Real conversation-
Words-
Strings-
Thoughts-
Actions-
Answers-
Questions-
Real-
Words-
Real-
Thoughts-
Words-
ThouGHts-
ReaL-
words-
WoRDs-
wOrdS-
woRds-
WORDS!!

This silence dins.
This silence hurts.
It starts so innocently.
How does it end
In a cold deafening embrace?

Maybe I am too young
And impatient,
Even though
It feels like
This silence is ageing me
Beyond recognition.
White skin
Black eyes
White hair.
Maybe I must wait,
I must learn,
I must change.
Calm waters
That don't decay
Are ever changing.
Surely they too
Bubbled
And gushed
With rage
And uncertainty
Once.
Surely the rocks
Beneath them
Smoothened
And padded
Themselves with moss
On which innocent hands
Could slip
But not cut.

Perhaps one day
Real silence
Will not numb.
Perhaps silence will calm
And open what is shut out.
Perhaps one day
Silence will be gentle
And soft
Like the new leaves of spring
That glisten
With fresh dew at daybreak.
Perhaps one day
Silence will let me listen.

Silence and Beauty- Birth
Makoto Fujimura
https://www.makotofujimura.com/works/

Fall

It's almost Fall.
It always comes like a surprise.
Everyone will say for the next month or so
About what a wonderful day it is.
The sunset is warmer
When the air is crisp somehow.
People are bustling through
Streets that were empty
The aroma of roasted garlic and ginger
From the Chinese restaurants waft
As I walk back home
Warming me
And tempting me to indulge myself
In long walks
Day dreams
Tea
And extended snack breaks.

The advertisements are up,
And so are the movie trailers for Christmas.
Get ready! they say,
Get ready! for all the shopping.
Get ready! The end of the year is coming
Get ready with
All the warm coats
And preppy fall boots
And preppy sweaters and leather jackets
And pumpkin flavours and sexy RBG costumes
And the blenders and ipads
And the self-help books and music fests
And the new keyboards and graphic cards
And cakes and turkey
And trees and fairy lights
And crackers and balloons and poppers
And hearts and scented candles and chocolates.

I remember that my favorite fall boots are broken.

This morning is so perfectly
On the edge of being chilly
A slight change in the wind
Would make the air crackle on the skin.
People cuddle their hands around mugs
As tiny wisps of steam melts into the atmosphere.
Street musicians entertain the
People spilling out on the streets
Outside the cafes and restaurants.
I notice that the windows in the neighborhood
Like mine
Are all open.

It's my third walk today from the office.
There's something about Fall
That makes me nostalgic about it
Even before it starts.

Who am I

When you live in a country
That represents the WEST
And WESTERN IDEALS
What do you with your
IDENTITY
As a coloured immigrant
From an UN-WEST country
And WESTERN ASPIRATIONS?!


Can I feel
That I am oppressed
In this world that cannot understand me—
When I have reaped
The obvious benefits
Of the PRIVILEGE of where I come from
That this world has helped create?



Who am I
To stand in indignation
Defending the UN-WEST,
From the WEST
That excludes us from THEIR heritage,
As if collaboration
And exploitation
Hadn't kept both our FOREFATHERS alive?


Who am I to feel
Jealous
Of those who will always
Feel like they belong
To this opulence
To this otherness-
Who can afford to be
Indifferent
To the dysmal
Scarring
Bitter
Divide that exists
In the UN-WEST
That THEY
Still BELONG to
In OUR memory,
But it conveniently
Doesn't in THEIRS?


This jarring otherness,
Simply named inequality,
That DOESN'T mask
The physical space it divides
Into little untidy bizzare bits
Of litter
And concrete.
Of those who can choose to be indifferent
And those who cannot.
Of those who can pontificate
And those who must find dignity
In their rough hands.
Of those who do not need permission to be human
And those who bury themselves in covers
When they mistakenly are.
Of those who do not need words
And those who have them barely.


My UN-WEST
That gave me
The unfair advantage
To feel indignant
To feel pride
To feel othered
In a space
That creates the
Unfamiliar feeling of being
UNPRIVILEGED
But an all too familiar feeling of being
SEEN and UNSEEN
All at once.

My UN-WEST,
That's cut me
In so many
Different pieces
And layers
That I’m bound and
Culled and
Crushed and
Offended by it
And its
Self-congratulation
Of false preservation.

My UN-WEST,
Of so many BROTHERS and sisters,
That feels discomfort
In ALL that is
IN-BETWEEN.

My UN-WEST
That likes to pretend
Only those who conform
Are the real insiders.
As if smugness
And apathy
Respects any boundaries.

Ah!
How good it feels
To feel like
The world
Is against me
And I am the courageous one
Fighting against all odds
To be nothing like any of THEM.

How offended I feel
When they say
I am WESTERN
Or UN-WESTERN
As if
My fight
Doesn’t rest on the shoulders
Of the WEST and the UN-WEST
I unsteadily and righteously stand upon.

As if
I do not crave
To belong
SOMEWHERE
ANYWHERE
Where I am not ashamed of
Who I am.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/179369997633128436/?lp=true

An Ode to Mess

Clothes strewn on the floor
Barricading the shut door
Mysteries of a cluttered space
Hidden behind its clean shaven face.

I may tell you my favorite hiding spots
But you'll never see where I hide my thoughts.
Behind this door are the cluttered secrets I keep
In this mess there's peace when I weep.

The fruit may rot and the coffee may crust
The hair may clot and the razor may rust
But here I reign, in this land of anarchy,
Where insects only crawl at my mercy.

Here I am neither devil nor saint.
Here I am together brave and faint.
Here I rot and I flourish.
Here I strip down and embellish.

The scent of me that I wash away
To fit into the world's gaze
Lingers in the carpets and sheets
That I wear again before I sleep.

When the air rushes in, it's safe behind this door
When it's time to leave, it filters its core.
So lovers may come and lovers may go
But what's truly inside they may never know.

So many todays have lived and died
In this room to stay alive.
The mess is my present and my past
It lingers till the clouds are cast.

When the rain knocks the windows for change
And the stains inside start to feel strange
I let the lightning strike its fire
And rise up from the cleansing pyre.

Outside, the world spins madly on
We synchronise to its splintered sound.
Inside this room of disarray
The world sheds its burlesque ways.

I must protect this fragile chaos
That shades my joy and my pathos.
And while outside is clean and bright
Inside, this darkness must stay alight.

From this pure dripping melting pot
I emerge clean from all the rot.
This room that I carefully close behind me
Protects the ugly freedom inside me.

John C. Hutchins
https://www.flickr.com/photos/transparentwhite/

A Work of Art

A lonely piece of bright colours

Splashing 

Its grey and bleak surroundings

With a touch of fierceness

Only something that was

Never meant to belong

Has.

It shouts sometimes vainly

And sometimes in vain

Desperate to share stories

With anyone who cares to be 

Less lonely 

Together.

I wonder when you catch my eye

Unexpectedly

And I let you in my thoughts

And I let you melt my time

And I let you make me still

Just for a few seconds

I wonder how we shared

Suddenly 

An intimate secret

Stuck in this time

In this place

That you can never share

And I will never be able to articulate.

A secret

Borne out of someone’s past

Formed out of my present

And preserved by someone else’s future.

How many infinite secrets

Have you kept

In your loud

Exterior?

Every time I come back

To remember

I am a different person

With a different

Ugly

Beautiful

For your safe keeping.

How many have escaped

Your naive careless whispers

How many will laugh

At those who fell

For your charms and tropes?

A piece of art

Stands between the bleak

And the empty sky

And as I stop to notice

I am tethered to the 

Fierceness

Only something that was

Never meant to belong

Has.

Waiting for the Metro
(Somewhere in Chicago)

It's been a while

Hello dear friend,

It’s been a while since

We talked endlessly about 

How no one was doing it right.

The coffee warms and steams

From soggy little paper cups

Firmly clasped in both our hands.

The entire cosmos is

Bubbling and melting

Between our fingers.

So much of the world used to

Unfolded itself in hours.

After all these years,

I can't wait to catch up with

How no one is doing it right.

The empty walls and cold spaces

Expand and collapse

With people

That come and go

Exchanging loud niceties 

As the day passes.

It’s been a while since

We filled our interrupted silences

With knowing glances

Because no one was doing it right.

The plastic bags rustle
As wrapped lunches

Perfected over the years 

Come out of the bags of 

Young people hustling each other.

Yeah, I am an adult now

And I hear you’re married,
Tell them I said hi.

When did it become 

Too late to talk about the fact

That no one is doing it right?

The last rays of the sun
Glimmers on the uncut grass

As flies hum their melancholy

In the sweet heavy summer evening.

Grey clouds drown the sun 

The most beautifully.

The phone clicks.

We've said our goodbyes 

So many times now.

Maybe some other time

We’ll get to the part

When no one was doing it right.

The view from #24
Gwyneth Leech
http://www.gwynethsfullbrew.com/p/blog-page.html

Purple Sky

I don't care
If I romanticise
Tragedy
Art
Metaphor
Or humanity.

Grey clouds

Drown the sun

The most beautifully.

Purple sky at WashU

Forever

I don’t believe in forevers

But I would like to have you 

For a little while

Just a little while longer.

Maybe till

All that needs to be said

Is said.

Maybe till

All that needs to be done

Is done.

Maybe till

All that needs to be filled

Is filled.

Maybe till 

All the goodbyes 

Are enough.

Just for a little while,

Let me your warm hand

With mine.

Just for now,

I would like to feel- safe

I would like to feel- comfort

I would like to feel home. 

I am not ready

To rearrange

All the empty objects

That are filled with your memory.

This home took so many moments

To build together.

I’d like to stay here 

And not change it

Not an inch,

Not a heartbeat.

Just for now,

I’d like to stay right here-

This exact spot-
With you.

Just for now,
We can both
Breathe life
Into the silence together.

Just for now,

We can warm ourselves with 

The friction of hearts

Beating together.

Just for now,

Don't go.

Please, 

Just not now.

I don't believe in forevers

But

I’d like to stay here

For a little while longer.

I'd like to stay here 

Perfectly still

Perfectly curled up

At this warm

Familiar side of the bed.

"Unmade bed"
Penelope Siopis

A cold evening in summer

Warm tears of blue
Fall.
Can you feel
The unbearable loneliness
Of being?

Darkness is a close friend
Darkness is the only friend
Wrapping it's warm shawl around
The scared and scarred mind.
There's no one to blame here.
There's just me and darkness.

There's no one to blame here
So let the tears pour.
Let them warm your cheek
And the corners of your pillow
As you weep.
How long
How long has it been
Since you let yourself be
Alone with yourself?
You surrounded yourself
With so many people
Just so you can
Stop yourself from screaming.

There's no one to blame here,
So let the tears pour.

Self-acceptance they say,
They've seen enough demons
To know my own-
But even they know
They can never see them
Like I do.
Invisible monsters
Lurking in broad daylight
Making night day,
Killing my dreams with
My own thoughts.
I no longer know
If I deserve happiness.
Probably not,
But then does that mean
There's some probability
I do?

I'm so tired.
I'm so tired.
I'm so tired.

No,
I don't want to see you.
I don't want to feel anything but
Home.
Home.
I don't even know
What it means anymore.
What compass do you use
To get back
If your heart is broken?
Do I even have a memory
That still has a place
For me?
Or is the heart
Wildly spinning
Because I've been running backwards
From the future
All this god damned while.

The lights inside dim
As the sun spills into the sky at dawn.
You're left with nothing
But tiredness and tear stains
Stretching your eyes.

You look around for comfort.
The birds will not understand you.
The clock will not understand you.
The light will not understand you.

There's no one to blame here
So let the tears pour and
Warm your heart-

It's been a long time
Since you held yourself tight.

 Kristina Skliarchuk
(https://www.pinterest.com/pin/466615211378434745/?lp=true)

किस कीमत पर

"अस्लाम आलेकुम,"
उसने चुपके से कहा 

उस रात जब जश्न मना 
उसके अपनों की चुप्पी पर.

देश के भक्तों ने
घोषणा कर दी:
उस आवाज़ की कोई कीमत नहीं है.

उसी रात आवाज़ों के बाज़ार में,
बेच दी गयी
उकसी दी गयी अमानत
चीखों को दबाकर.
बेच दी गयी उसकी आवाज़
हमारी रूह की कीमत पर.

देश भक्त
भूल गए शायद
इस देश का स्वराज

अगर अब तक बंधा रहा है   

तो सिर्फ आज़ाद आवाज़ों से.
शायद समझते हैं 
शान और शौकत की कीमत
आज़ादी है.

बस उस दिन की चिंता है
जब बिक चूका होगा सब कुछ
और खून के दाल दाल में

बचा रहेगा सिर्फ 

इंक़लाब का नारा.
लाज़िम है तब भक्तों को
ज़रुरत महसूस होगी
"आलेकुम सलाम" की.

https://www.journeyb.com/2012/08/awaaz-do.html

Procrastination

I put it off 

Today.

We all know that

Tomorrow never comes

But anxiety does.

Like a ball of snow rolling down the hill:

Growing and growing and growing and growing

Faster and faster and faster and faster

Louder and louder and louder and louder

Until I can’t contain it.

Until I can’t outrun it.

Until I can’t escape it.

Sometimes

I face it 

And it explodes into tiny

Harmless pretty snowflakes.

Sometimes

I face it 

And it explodes into tiny

Sharp shards of glass.

Every time

I face it 

I know tomorrow

There will be another hill.

I wish

Sometimes 

Tomorrow would put off being

Today.

Nicci Bedson

Silence: In the name of us

The world

Is not a big enough 

For us

To run away and find
Peace.

Let's not pretend

That silence

Isn't its own type of

Violence.

The quiet of our sleep

Rests on the voices

That were smothered

By the black tapes of guns

And silver tongues

Of righteousness.

Brothers,

I cannot pretend

To know your lives

Of hiding under beds

Wondering if these days 

Are the last. 

I cannot pretend

My life has not been 

Gold and
Silver and
White-

While yours has been

Yellow and
Black and
Red.

I cannot pretend

There isn't a chasm between us-

That we call ourselves brothers

As my bed has been made

With the bloodstains of yours.

So I shall not pretend.

But as they spread

Their legs to split our worlds

From each other,

Dear brother,

Know that this time

I will not run away-

I must not-

I cannot.

For every time they strike you

In the name of us

They make a monster of me

As I sit in silence.

Dear brother, 

The end of you 

Is the end of everything good

In the rest of us.

KASHMIR
Sandeep Chetan/Flickr

Trying

Let's be honest-
I've tried
But not enough.

My heart breaks
And I fix it.
My mind crumbles
And I fix it.
My body shatters
And I fix it.

But
Let's be honest
It's not quite
Enough.
They keep telling me
It's not quite
Right
Yet.
No matter
The pep talks
I give and take
Somehow
I am
Always
Dissatisfied.

People have tried harder.
They know what they want to
Man up
Don't they?
People are happier.
They know what they need to be
Happy
Don't they?
People are content.
They manage all their
Struggles
Don't they?

People get
Better
Don't they?

Let's be honest
I just want to know
I'll get there.
And that I'll get there
Soon.
Because
Let's be honest
It's not worth it
If happiness isn't cut up
The way they all
Make it out to be.

But maybe
Maybe
I'll be relieved.

Maybe
I'll finally be free
Knowing
There is no end to
This trudging in the mud
This confusion
This utter spiral
This strange
Corrugated
Upside down
Slide.

Maybe
All of us are just
Groping into the dim-
And
None of us has a
Fucking clue.

Maybe we are all just
Plodding along together
Stealing glances
Looking sideways
Desperately
Hoping someone knows
A direction
We can follow.

Let's be honest
There's a comfort
In the togetherness
Of slogging away
In the dark
With
No fucking idea.

Let's be honest
It might be too dark
To see
But for some reason
There's light enough
To hope.

http://pascalcampion.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-crowd.html

Life After You

I still tend to the things you left me.

Your flowers are still here.
I've tried to take care of them
The best I could.

Maybe if they stay alive
So will your memories of me.
I'm not yet ready
To let them go.

Flutterings

Its dark outside

But the screen of my phone 

Glitters 

With

Possibility.

I flick away the bees

Fluttering at my screen

Through a quick

Swiping of my fingers.

Our infinite faces.

Our powerless hearts.

It is dark inside

And the screen of my phone 

Glitters

With

Possibility.

Pretty Woman

Pretty Woman
what stories
does She have to tell
that stir
in her coffee mug

are her eyes searching
for an answer
outside the window
or is She waiting
for her next mistake

her eyes are brown
darker
than the coffee
She drinks

when our eyes locked
i saw the swirls
of a deep conversation
yet to be made

hair fell on her face
carelessly
purposefully
curled around her
cheek
untamed
perhaps etching
a secret
of a past
a future

She bites her lips

does
She think of something
She must
hold back?

She straightens
her back
as if suddenly aware
She's not alone
and maybe
strangers
notice her

She holds a secret
in her fingers as
She stirs
the sugar in the coffee

nails
half bitten
half long
neglected

secrets
make
a lonliness
burdensome to
carry

does
She wish it
wasn't
her burden

would
She have liked
to scream out to
strangers
in this room
who look at her out of
their own lonliness

what captivates
me about her?
her youth
her secrets
her namelessness
her familiarity

if She told me everything
She knew today
would
she
still
be the Pretty Woman
by the window

Looking for something

they all looked
at me funny
when i told them i was
looking for something

perhaps because,
i didn't quite know
when i had it last
Or where to find it
Or what it was
Or why it was important
if found it

all i knew
that it belonged to me
and if i'd stop searching
it'd be lost
with me

Waiting

The sun is setting
Bloodletting the sky
And we are waiting
As the cars whizz by.

The rhythm of the rumbling
Of a time gone past
And we are waiting
To go somewhere at last.

Venus is shining
Foreboding a crimson upset
And we are waiting
To get our feet wet.

Did we hear thunder roll
From the golden clouds?
And we are waiting
To remove our withered shrouds.

It is hot and humid
Our heads feel far from fine
And we are waiting
Too long for stars to align.

The road narrows
As the horizon expands
And we are waiting
For the rest that're damned.

Ode to the platonic lover

Misty eyed

You took me in

With open arms

And steaming tea-

We both didn’t like

But we had anyway-
Because we both knew

I needed

A distilled manifestation

Of the warmth

We promised 

Each other.

Slowly burning embers

Of togetherness

In the coldness

Of the vast wilderness.

Huddled together

Warming our hands

From the remains

Of broken loves

Of betrayed trusts

Of burdened change.

We tested so many

Through the itch 

Of time

Through the pricks

Of mistakes

Through the fire

In our souls.

Only we survived

Whole and pure-

Bhumati,

Daughter of the earth-

The doubted,

The triumphant,

The true protector.

But someday

We will never see 

Each other again.

And someday

When I call upon 

The earth to part

You will be by my side.

सामाजिक निद्रा

खटखटाती हुई 

आवाज़ से ही 

नींद खुली। 

मेरे खर्राटों से 

किसी और की नींद 

उड़ रही थी। 

Forget me

Darling forget me
Fate had brought us together
Since then you've been tethered
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
I was everything you wanted
Every darkness I haunted
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
I was the voice to your soft soul
That you tried and failed to control
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
I had the eyes of the endless sea
And only drowning would have set you free
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
I was the morphine to your pain
I made reality yellow stains
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
We danced till our bodies were one
And our sense of self came undone
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
Our lives were their fantasies
No one knew we lived parodies
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
We could dissolve the darkness into light
Let the brightness kill our sight
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
We had the world at our feet
Let its ashes fall on our streets
Darling forget me

Darling forget me
I was your saviour, I was your heart
That is why you had to tear me apart
Darling forget me

A Sonnet for Rain

Dearest rain

You brought my lovers

You endured my screams

Screams of pain

Screams of pleasure

Whispers of memories.

Entwined in the 

Cold wetness of your touch

Is the warmth and relief

Of possibility

And feeling.

I will never stop

Loving you.

You don’t know me

But you made me

Who I am today.

You blotched the

pages of my diaries-

Scribbles I cared for

Words I didn’t.

I feel your warmth on 

My skin

As you slide off

My face

Pointed to the sky

The wetness of

The earth

Seeps through my bare feet.

My arms move back and forth

As my fingers

Run through my hair

That sticks to my skin.

Then Thunder rolls

And my body shudders.

My oldest friend

My oldest lover

You will live

Even when I’m gone.

You won’t remember me

But

As my ashes

Will mix with the earth

Life will thrive

Through you still.

Inspiration

It’s late.

The itchiness

At the back of my eyes

Has started.

I have to keep going

I’m so tired.

So hungry.

So tangled.

But I heard the right note

In that song 

On that playlist

I had carelessly

Put together.

Suddenly,

It’s easier

To be an artists

To be a genius

To be a worker-

Even if only for

Five seconds.

Those five seconds

Rushes in like a wave

Gently washing away

The fatigue

The doubt

The loneliness.

In those 5 seconds

I can be whatever I want to be.

And then it ends.

My eyes are itchy again.

The tiredness 

Pulls me down like 

An anvil.

Every other waking moment

Then spent on

Trying to recreate

That perfect note

That perfect beat

That perfect mood

For those 5 seconds

When I’m invincible.

रासलीला

बस 

अब बस. 

अकेले यहाँ 

नहीं खड़े रह सकते हम.

ज़िन्दगी भर 

अपने घरों में बैठकर 

चमगादड़ के तरह 

सोते रहे दिन भर. 

जागे तो 

सिर्फ अपने अँधेरे के लिए. 

बहुत रो लिए हम भी 

टूटे बिखरे लाशों के लिए. 

हम बेवकूफ थे 

जो सोचते थे 

हमारी चीखें 

ऊंची तख्तों तक 

किसी तरह पहुँच कर 

पत्थर दिलों को 

पिघला देंगी. 

पहुंचा तो था 

हमारा कोलाहल 

पर जवाब दिया 

शहनाई और नगाड़ों से. 

भक्तों ने सिर्फ 

दो रसों की लीला रची.

रौद्र और भय 

मंच के नायक थे. 

शहनाई की फटती आवाज़ 

अब मेरे कानों को सुन्न 

कर चुकी हैं। 

भस्म कर चुकीं हैं 

उन  इन्द्रियों को 

जो कभी मुझे 

दुनिया की जटिलता 

की आभास देती थीं. 

चमगादड़ की तरह 

अब व्यासविकता भी 

मेरे साथ 

उल्टी सो रही है. 

बस.

बस!

चाहे हमें किसी खंडाल में 

बर्खास्त  किया हो -

दिन में भले ही 

हम शिकार बने  हों-

रात में उड़ेंगे चाहे 

अमावस्या क्यों न हो !

चमकती भड़कीली मंच पर 

उसकी काली परछाई को 

बेनकाब कर 

बिगूलों के खूटे स्वरों को

अपनी करकशी से दबाएंगे . 

भले ही आँखों से करनी हो बातें 

अकेले नहीं रहेंगे और. 

चिमगादड़  झुण्ड में 

निकलते हैं -

एक साथ ही 

काली पर्दों के सामने 

खेलेंगे 

सच्ची रासलीला.