Poem By Praveen Kumar in Celestial Glow
They’re high rising colour balloons,
Rising high and high to the sky
In thin air in vast unbound sky
In freewill of unfulfilled dreams,
Only to ‘dum’, burst to fragments,
To bits unrecognisable to naked eyes,
Shattered, scattered, they drop on earth.
Colours rise, go fragments and drop
While air within vanishes in thin air;
Punctured balloons no more hold wind,
No strength to carry high to the sky;
No hold to itself, lost in dust clouds,
Fragments look sky for where it rose
Only to burst, and awaken to truth.
Colours, fragments, itself real states,
No difference it makes, by itself;
Rise and fall like make and break
Shatters and scatters that is within;
It’s burst of the building block,
It’s burst of cement that holds;
It makes prospects worse than past.
Balloons are meant to burst a day;
Filled in air, and steer through air,
Balloons breathe air, and dies in air;
No realities bind; bound in own weight,
Free fall from sky to earth’s dust,
Balloons suffer in devastating pains,
Unsaid to world and hidden within.
Colours render pain impossible to bear,
While ego in fragments turn black;
Rise in vast sky of rarefied air
Make realities in front dumb and hollow;
Back to pulp in hopeless night,
Whether they rise ever again in colours?
None can predict the lure of good dreams.