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Oblivion when descended on the dead tress:
No whisper No chirrup
No bird of autumn
Neither ugliness nor beauty
If anything the aura stared plain...
Happiness neither sadism
Nothing save numbness described my heart.
Truth or illusion; no mirror can reflect...
Neither desire to live nor lobe for death.
Plainness and Calmness
Numbness and Silence;
The descended oblivion, the stoned me...
From the fades, emerged deep eyes;
Ocean's depth and sea's vastness.
A voyage that calls a million years...
Closer by bits, the eyes blinked...
Artistic lips and carved brows.
Heaved the coldness in the breath
Broke the numbness; strand by strand...
Absolute beauty; he:
Touched our skin
Cold to warm...
Iced fingers in rhythm crossed the magical.
Some old sound clicked the air
Rhyming sound but long lost:
The heart was beating;
Thus lived I, My two-and-a-half days;
When descended the oblivion on the trees.
Of oblivion; eternity is abstraction...
Love but has a tenure shortest:
As descendence dripped the sigh of vanishment
The magical fingers undid mine
Warmth fumed and joined the sighs
Like the lost shimmer in the blood
Bit by bit, strand by strand Numbness rejuvenated.
Lips hued and face tinged
The eyes but retained the deepest depths...
As he became a shade and shadow
I still was locked in his eyes
Captured I was in his mesmerization
I but was preoccupied with some familiarity;
Higher and deeper, darker and denser
The waves in his eyes reflected Whirlpool
A drowning soul made no battle
Drowning but in fancy and gaiety
The soul seemed familiar
The smile known
The hair owned
The lips spoken;
As the eyes retuned to oblivion
As the last stroke of hue
Was about to vanish in the sigh:
I did recognize:
It was my soul that was taken
In the ocean of his endless eyes.
Dhaar Mehak |
(Is a free lance writer and an undergraduate economics student)