Poetry Of A Dying Heart
The other day I danced until breathlessness,
by Bistriti Poddar Mehra
My throat choked when I realized, may be that was the last time when I felt my sweat,
My soul hasn’t lately been permitting me to fret,
The way the sun goes down somewhere behind the ocean scenes,
My heartbeat would end with the same gesture,
I wonder, when was the last time my eyes had moisture?
I am about to belong to somebody,
It’s a bond not of the world, but beyond,
After much suffering and following immense bruises,
It’s time to rest in peace and live the moment when mortality cruises,
Upto that level where it’s genuinely oneness,
He whispers in my ears every night about the world there,
Where I can shun all my fear,
Which I could never thump down while I still breathed,
And my ruminations constantly wrangled and seethed,
Am I supposed to be jubilant that I shall drift away from my soul in sometime?
Or pile up my woes for the last day?
Time is running out,
My little heart is dying,
My eyes have gone pale,
But I think I wasn’t ready yet,
Yet I have to go,
All what I can see is the undulation along the shore today is surprisingly slow!