Tuesday, November 13, 2012


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

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