Wizardry Of Silence

Poetry does not come with words

It has its genesis somewhere inbetween

the lines...the feelings...the silence...yes the silence perhaps...feeling the silence...echoing the silence... understanding the silence....empathizing with the silence...embracing the silence...speaking to the silence...singing with the silence...then giving it a shape...a form...a visual...perhaps even beauty, grace, dignity, charm...a bewitching, tangible , unmistakable, pulsating charm...that is how a nebulous thought springs up and becomes lyrics ...the melody you call mesmeric...do you know it is born out of nothingness...just nothingness...pure nothingness and a solitude which is exclusive and all encompassing...poetry is

born out of that which is nothing and one day dives back into that which is naught

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Inside

I was talking of my inner battles

The festering scars

The screams within

The frantic search

The abject failure

The witch dance of hopelessness 

And then the cracks...

The leaks

The nervous attempts to disguise 

I fail again

They laugh

Make fun

I recede within deeper

And then again 

The screams

The search

The hopelessness 

The frenzy of witch dance

The cacophony of laughter 

They all sing and revel

And I...?

I slide deeper within

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The Ritual

I play with my inner battles

They are mine alone

Like the rice I like to have  

Softened and destarched

With the runny lentil soup

And a dry curry crisp 

A dollop of curd 

To finish with 

Topped with sugar or jaggery 

As the season may be

A happy stomach helps win 

Just for the time being 

Until

Arrives another war 

Dramatic but spartan

Rotis fluffy and steaming hot

Vegetables slippery in gravy 

Spicy, tangy but not too chillicious 

Remember wars are won 

With warmth and not arms

The victory of course with dessert

Till another chess board is set

With another ritual served

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