I am not ready to write about it yet,
the shadow lost
the winter frost
the lamp at the side of my bed
the book lies there face down
as the night kills me slowly
closed eyes
to the rising sun
Thursday, July 23, 2009
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1 comments:
So suave revelation of poetic sense !
Some ruins of promises, some corpses of endless moments, some suspicions on neat flow of life and frailty inherent to its existence as silhouetted against indissoluble presence of darkness in solitude !
Would I be sailing the vast sea of darkness close to the horizon that awaits me for so long with a shining dawn to lay bare artful deceits of the Night? I don’t know; yet I deeply believe in Tagore’s philosophy, which whispers “Perhaps, you would”.
{ If interested, may please read my feeble attempt in sharing Tagore’s penultimate poem limited to my intellectual competence Here
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