Thursday, August 13, 2015

OTHER LAND



There must be
other dimensions of silent spaces
in our stretching vastness,
clashing violently
with each other;
making its own vocabulary of war and win

Rimmed with passionate qualm
I slice my present urge
with thicker remorse:
Why with a noise,
birth gives a cry, and
Why with an end
It dies feeding the space
For fun

There, I explode
Like a giant star.
There, I burn suns and moons.
There, I quaff the burning ember
As Shiva consumed the ‘Poison’
Churning an ocean of milk

One more silence
For a demand;
One more victory for a win;
One more beyond, for a beyond;
One more birth for an immortal man;
No cry and no death
No war and nothing to win

O, denizen of other land!

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