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Monday, August 25, 2008

Thirsty

It is undying.
Ever-growing.
It drives me insane at times.
The first step is yet to be taken.
But I am already riding along in my craft.
I can smell the breeze.
And I can see the lights.
They are dim and pretty.
Not blinding.
May my craft never run out of fuel.
May I always turn around the corners.
May I fall down and scratch myself.
Have burns.
Cry in pain.
Gut twisting horrifying pain.
May I need a helping hand.
But I will step out of my craft.
And walk on my 2 feet.
And smile a naughty smile.
Full of pride.
And build thousands more.
All traveling together - parallel to each other.
Imagine the breadth.
It shall conquer all.
It will be overwhelming.

The valley shall be visible.
The only way will be down below into the canyon.
And my craft will fall into it.
But lo!
It now has wings.
Thousands of these crafts fly together.
Can you imagine that wonderful sky where brightness is mistaken for the sun?
Can you imagine how it will be?

I can.
I am restless.
But calm is my face.
Throbbing is my heart.
There is a lot to engulf.
A lot to digest.
And a lot to wash down with experience.

I can smell that breeze.

1 comment:

ishan said...

it is my honour to have read it.. no poem has ever touched me as this one hs.. u can be a great poet of this centuary.. ur a genius