I have walked very long
on the rocky bed of time
In my effort to excavate truth
many times, I have fallen
into the pit
where truth sits complacent
refusing to be rescued,
Since for truth, earth is trivial.
Many times I have fallen
Into bottomless depth.
And defying death
I have risen on my own.
Aeons have passed
I still carry on.
This is just once more
that I would look for my origin
Before I get up
And walk again,
a few questions
to be triggered at random.
Sitting on the mouth of cannon
my words would tremble,
my silence would echo in me for a while.
This is just once again
that a drop of tear
would be left
for its fossil to be found
under the frozen time.
Road is a moving point.
On that, once I stood still, thinking
my first encounter with life,
the very first dialogue with dreams
and prattling commitments to toddler words
Later it revealed-
The point does not belong to me
nor to you
nor to our destiny.
Road is a rolling illusion
unfurled live beneath the journey.
Trail has never abetted a voyager
to reach anywhere.
It only puts him on track in perpetuity.
Meanwhile the voyager forgets his dreams
and the waft that runs his demesne.
the boulevard reaches the destination
prior to the roadster.
After I know, there is nowhere to reach
all roads are the same.
Any of them would take me
up to that preordained point
where History misses itself
Again and again.
I have stood for long
on the line of illumination
being a bridge between day and night
And have earned my tears
in bargain with God
for arbitration between right and wrong.
My tears often looked unreal
since they did not speak of
the pain and miseries,
those the world knows.
Many nights I sat in silence
staring at the starry sky
wondering if the world was inverted
Or it was I.
My solitude has buried in its crypt, countless questions
They outnumber the stars.
Today the dead questions are reborn.
They surround me with new ardour.
Today, once again,
in the crowd, I’m alone.
With a sigh I look up and wonder
who collected my tears and questions!
Among the innumerable ones twinkling
was there a lonesome one too,
who lived my mind,
sharing with me Space and Time!
Who knows for how long
these waves have been dragging into ocean
births, deaths, memories and events,
the eternal precepts!
How many desperate attempts to arrest time
have receded with the waves
How many showers from hearts,
how many stories
have been soaked by sand!
Inside the seashell
Sitting still are the lost youth of dreams, promises
and awaited moments.
After collecting the remains of countless scattered accounts
Could the ocean remain only ocean!
It is also the solution of
centuries’ sob and tears of heaven.
After carving on its chest
The fading footprints of so many recitals
Could sand remain only sand!
Here lying the preview of time to pass!
Sushri Sangita Mishra