My Home

My Home

Time on the window panel of a glasshouse

Frozen like a thin sheet of prickly ice

I try peeping out

Sliding in the bubbles of an airy vacuum

Just felt the chill. Crystals of thorny hopes fell from the

Horizon. All around me

I shrugged under an earthly umbrella

Holding the pole of starry yearnings

Jutting out to another world

The world where you’re not around

The world that dwells in nothingness

The world exists all around me

Loose fists holding sand. Just enough to get stuck on soft flesh

Trying to make tiny castle to spend the leftover years

Dwindling years of my perishable soul wedged to a decaying body

A dwelling they call home

Having a room with a view

Unfolding a vast universe

Where rising mountains grow from collapsing mud

Where life withers without a thud

Where white angels wear a garland of gold

All remain vastly sold

Sold to the highest bidder

Ready to buy my body and soul for a few pieces of paper

Floating on the muddy waters. Paper boats

I walk erect stuffing waste papers in my loose pockets

My palms extend to touch the glass panels

With frozen frost in the dwindling morning

Then. Suddenly

A sunray pierces it

Making it evaporate. Leaving no trace

Behind.

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About rirakesh

I feel a bit disturbed by the prevailing condition in our society, so I write: poems, articles & stories.
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