Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Uncertainty stands in the doorway. Then a hand appears and shuts the door. We stand not knowing what to say to each other. This morning a storm came and wiped our smiles. Then came the rain and we cupped our hands and tastes tears. We saw a slab of stone and there was love rubbing its greedy thighs. There confusion which wore an old cloak of noise and we dreamt fear. When we rise we taste copper in our mouths. There was no sun today, just a mist of despair hung on us. The river came with noon. The ancient guard looked back and then we never saw him again. There were ghosts that kissed you. They wanted you to reply. Their message perhaps meant nothing, nothing of consequence. But now the towers is locked and you have the keys. The spells don't work and their is no music. Everyone wished to die or be forgotten. Faith stoops, honesty is on crutch and promise just a hunchback. The wizard's got swollen fingers and his words is a yawning chasm of disbelief.


Blogger The Dragon said...

Worthy of Cohen, this dark passage with creepy imagery was.

What is going on in real life to inspire such melancholy?

3:11 PM, January 21, 2009  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

If there's a genre called melancholia, you would definitely qualify as a worthy exponent. Nice use of words. Anamika

10:19 PM, January 22, 2009  
Blogger Pragnya said...

thats a melancholic beauty i would say.
u play with words beautifully.

11:52 AM, January 26, 2009  

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