Dwelling quietly in a room of darkness,
Aloof from the world, wrapped with a blanket of coldness
No song emanates from there.
But only syllables of silence, .
Amidst the chirping of the grasshoppers.
He seems to have been dissolved in the silence
Sitting quietly with resilience.
No noise disturbs him.
No sight excites him.
His senses seem to have grown cold.
His tales of silence have always been told.
“May be he got tired of life
Or realised how hard it is a strife
To win and live thereafter”
Even I don’t know the reason
Everytime,I meet him I try to decipher that silence
He mystifies me
And his silence still defy me.
There was a time when I was his prized possession.
He played with me for hours, inventing games out of his imagination.
Now his imagination has soared to the sky,
Where I am nothing but a speck of dust,
Existing quietly in a corner,
Waiting for someone to notice by.
It was a calm morning when I walked into my garden,
Looking at every flower and every creeper with solemn attention.
They had been growing for ages
Yet, I hardly felt they were there.
Till now, I felt it was I who was there,
Living through minutes without bothering who did care.
Yet now,I have time
Time to pause,
Time to look into the eyes of the world around,
To indulge in fragrances that they throw,
To be mesmerised by their colourful decor that they put up to show,
To gaze at those colourful petals and observe them fading in the winds of times,
So, that I know whatever is good, can still blossom silently.
All we have is a canister full of love that we can pour with perseverance
Onto the tender roots grown so deep and wait with patience
To see our life flowering,
Amidst the times ever changing…