Aha This is something that Priyanka Nandy aka Tania had asked me to write about sometime back and I kept denying myself the pleasure and the orgasm of composing lines for such a lovely oxymoron. But just as things would be and with no definite explanation of why I want to write about the same, on a continuous note of my stream of thought the composition begins:
The darkest hour of the night,
Streamed by the distant moonlight.
My overladen heart,
Pierced by the most insignificant dart.
The calmest breeze across the ocean,
Unfurl my deepest blue emotions.
And yet I ask why
The mind laments ?
No dewdrops of solace,
But a gripping tale of fear and disgrace.
A history of inconsequential events,
Trace my being and presence.
No thought precedes the other,
Every speck of emotions takes the mind further.
Did He hear what I have to say?
Or Is it just a picture to whom I pray?
Across the window there is a room,
I can see the gay spirits and hear the tune
Not the one of the lady blowing into the flute
The lonely tune,
My mind is mute.
Galloping from far away,
A sound pierces the dreary night
The silhouette of a wild horse,
Now rise above the sky.
The streams of the dawning sun,
Break my solitude bare.
The wilderness of her flying mane,
Caress my dying shame.
In her pursuit I start yet again amazed,
By her Fierce Grace.