I have cast
again the silver web tonight.
Like a master
fisherman I’ve laid out the nets.
And see… my
hands are still empty.
No you are
not mine,
You never
were mine to begin with.
And in no
foreseeable outcome
I can see you
ever become mine;
But are we
two accountants or bankers
To squabble over
such a petty thing?
When I was a
child I would wake up
Every day,
unfailingly, with a start,
And open the
window to welcome
Each new day
with such possibilities:
So sure was I
that the world would change
And
inevitably for the better!
Are you a
siren of the high seas, mermaid?
Does your
song end in the rocky shores and ruins?
Or are you
the wisp-o-willow in the marsh?
I have
followed you in the darkest paths
Where one
dark thing certainly waits for me.
Yet, judge me
poorly not on that either.
If this be my
lot, how glorious it is,
To ride down
the winding path
Of one’s own
chosen destruction…
Listening to
the serenading sirens
By the
wisp-o-willow’s silver light.
Diptesh Ghosh
No comments:
Post a Comment