I got a name for
‘Who are you’?
Echoing my contours
MUCH before I learnt
to see and hear
Now melanin sheaths
Wane and wax to morph
with choices,
chances and discretion
Rippled views tune
broken phrases and unsung
songs
as I wipe
brushstrokes
of rainbow stars
in a rendezvous with
the blood moon
The breeze soaks my
parched dreams
cooling the pouches
of tear streaks
proliferating accepted
perceptions
What more could become of me?
What more could be
unbecoming of me?
My catharsis
criss-crossing my palms
criss-crossing my palms
tickles to the touch
of grass
rustles apprehensive
to a dewdrop
Inconclusive, it continues
- the journey
For a tint of grey
for my hair, unseen
crinkle a bit of my
skin - vestiges of memories
tingle the tear
glands
to swallow a breath
Ambling to cuckoo
calls and tweets
on cracked heels
I tick time till
time ticks on me
Finding SELF
Till the soil finds
me
finding self til the soil finds me... it is a journey..isn't it... the rendevous with the blood moon...i like.. and do sing those unsung songs... we all should...
ReplyDeleteThe journey to find ourselves is never ending with our all our choices ~ I like this line: I tick time till time ticks on me ~ Good to see you Akila ~
ReplyDeleteGrace
life is a constant finding of ourselves until the soil finds us...and we can do no more to stop time than we can pluck a star from the heavens...i like the wiping of the brushstrokes as well....
ReplyDeleteit's so important to find Self in the journey....choices, discretion have their roles and
ReplyDeletechances too play their part...thoughtful lines...
meandering... we see so much more than those with blinders to a destination
ReplyDeleteAkila, this is just beautiful. And in that journey of self we do meander and it's all good.
ReplyDelete