Caught In The Limbo

keeping quiet beneath the tree
on the bank of the silent lake,
sitting still, motionless,
days transformed into nights
nights transforming to day
the blazing sun failing yet again
to ablaze me,
the crescent moon failing once again
to medicate my mind,
caught in the trap of such a deep thought
that even the lake transcends
engulfing me whole
dissolving my thoughts once again
freeing me from the limbo.

Ah! i am weary of this natural beauty
my voice echoing all over
trying to catch your ears,
that i would defy even thousand divines
for the only glimpse of U,
the living beauty
in my dream.

Ah! i am weary of dreaming,
no existence in the physical world,
perhaps not to be is to be
without your being.

Ah! i am weary of hiding
that how much i care for U,
that i would even defy
the song of the nightingale
to hear from U,
that i would even defy
the thousand daffodils
to look upon U,
from dusk till dawn.

Ah! i am weary of the fear
of the consequences
of this unfolding reality,
but somehow now,
i am free forever
from the trap of the deep thought,
freed from the limbo for eternity,
now it's up to U,
the living beauty
in my dreams........

by ronik braveheart

Comments (3)

Wow! I really liked this piece. It paints a scene with deftness and layers it with layer after layer of meaning.f
Dreams are part of us. Nice work.
Beautiful, reads like a legendary folk tail set in the modern automotive era; the saga of an aging fallible father feeling the insecurity of his years, beaten down by failures and battle scares fears, the mockery of his drunken son while changing a tire in the cold night snow, but the son though drunk still adores his beloved father from childhood to adulthood. The endearing twists and turns are made so by the revelation that the son still adores, deeply loves his father, witnessed testified to by the way the son 'slips the tire iron gently from his father's grip and kneels down in the unstained snow and unbolts the wheel' before the unity of their common heritage sung in a much loved song of their cultural origins. This poem to me is superb, but then I am now becoming an aging fallible father, feeling the insecurity of his years, in aging changing abilities, in threatening economic times.10+++