Exposition

I passed the tunnel
Dividing the self and foreign,
And I touched the walls
And I torched them;
Both melted into each other,
And was born an image:
The interpreter and the thief,
The happiness and the grief;
The masquerade shined.
I was in a bind,
And the plethora of emotions
Prevaricated the strain,
There was music no more
In the mind.

The throne was occupied by a thrush,
But there came no sound:
Words are constricting.
Among leaves lush
Was I found,
And among leaves lush
Did I drown.

What was life beyond life?
I am in negligence.
And apathy is sweet.

Meet me where the sun meets the eyes,
Meet me where the night meets the dream,
Meet me where you ought to have met me long ago.

I was sleeping but I am awake now,
I was dreaming but I am falling now,
You ought to have taught me that long ago.

And now, there is a hole,
A parole of negation,
A furor of separation,
And a cremation.

Grub, grey groans and hushed, crushed moans,
Impulsive revulsions and repulsive expulsions;
The bells have convulsions.

Reveal the deuce, peel the prepuce,
You must not refuse;
Or the dead will rise
Behind the sails at eve,
And the waters will disguise
The mist of belief.

Climb the stairs well,
Climb the beanstalk with care,
This time, the giant is not your soul,
But your flesh.

by Pinaki Dewan

Comments (2)

An insightful rendition elegantly brought forth in persuasive poetic expressions with conviction. A beautiful creation. Thanks for sharing Pinaki.
You brilliantly torched the walls through tender light to remove pain and give joy. Passing the tunnel is adventurous. Plethora of emotions flows but music of mind does not initiate singing in deepest sorrows. Revealing purposes motivates mind. This is an amazing poem brilliantly penned thought provoking poem on grief and joy....10