I see the sky
It makes me want to fly
I see the field
It makes me want to run
I see the trees
They make me want to climb
I see the river
It makes me want to swim
I see the life
It makes me want to live
Beyond my wants and will
There is some force that is holding me back
Making me want to die instead of living.
You are a weaver of words
Strikes my heart flowery chords
Fatally wounded by swords
My ears need thick sounding boards
You weave the heavens with hell
From the clouds my cold heart fell
Every line you string so well
Love’s strands in loom webbed my cell
You weave music in the air
Words that caresses my hair
You are William Shakespeare’s heir
Sonnets born inside your lair
You weave sweet dreams in the night
Make the moon full and shine bright
You weave hope, paradise’s sight
Make every wrong turn out right
You are my weaver of words
You weave heavens in my worlds
You weave music with love chords
You weave dreams with Venus’ cords.
He was deeply in love
In love with his reflection
His reflection in the river
He would stare for hours together
Till his reflection fell in love with him
Merger was inevitable
And so it happened
Narcissus drowned into his image
A flower bloomed at the place
As beautiful as Narcissus.
The hands start to clap
but the sound is broken
A smile starts to form
but the lips are broken
The eyes start to twinkle
but the light is broken
The heart starts to rejoice
but the beats are broken
The mind wants to break free
but the will is broken
I am not me
The spirit is broken
The soul is gone
There is just the broken shell
and everlasting emptiness.
Where the glories are
Bowed down by wisdom,
Let the wise cultivate
To reap their fruits, there!
When the compassion grows
The rational mind knows not;
But, to share
Love by heart
Where the choice, finds
An expression to reflect;
Reflect briefly thy ephemeral life,
Fleeting thy temporal abode
When armour of fate
Wear thy grail and grin
Knocking thy gate,
Broaden not thy elephant ears!
A magnificent building infront of me,
And sounds from the crowd…
This place will make you feel proud,
To seek success, that’s the key!
A man turned and walked up to me,
He said something,
My eyes wide, I was dreaming!
Oh! So beautiful, would my future be?
The man shouted steep,
Hey, you filthy creep!
I am asking you for a cup of tea.
Dreams are gone, back to Reality!
The man talks again…
You illiterate, pathetic, poor worm,
I work so hard in that firm,
And come here for a sip of tea,
This! Disgusting substandard quality.
Good for nothing on earth,
He threw some coins, pick up your worth!
Tears rolled up my eyes,
Why am I alive under this sky?
Is being poor a crime?
Am I destined for this hard time?
Am I born so the World would hate me?
Will I always sell tea?
I am afraid I am going mad
Fear gives me wings to write
What if I am drunk with life
and found lying dead
behind the door?
How many are the strange and wonderful things man has written
and that life is about!
My mind races restlessly and I cannot bring it under control
I am in the grip of fancy and the imagination
when what I need is a dose of sobriety’s cheerless cold!
Damn it.
What if I am going mad
and – horror of horrors! – am not found lying dead
behind my rich man poor man hovel’s door?!
When you were going mad
what was it like?
And all those years that came after?
So much of a gift
and life wasted?
Yet you also live on
in your work and more in a tribute
and through
others’ fascination
with you and your works.
Doomed art, doomed artist –
stop exerting your wild call on me!
I do not wish to be
at the cost of my sanity.
Sir Abhinav Jain XIII 