The Convolution of Hard Life

-By Swayam Nath

The Twirl in a Twirl in a Twirl in a Twirl
The wires of insidious convolutions, endless
Rising up and
Falling down—like Rooks—like rain—when eyes move
Is but perpetual vicissitudes of
Fellows; filled; fernandous.
The eyes under light lot wherein the lot, the light
Masquerades
Blinding the blind.
Meadows whence we went to rebehold,
To behold the stars,
To behold once again, once more
Twinkling and scintillating.
The sky
The bejeweled sky
The cloudbesmeared sky
The sky
Bearing its celestially dark bossom,
Pensive sky!
Hanker after, run deftly and fast
Yet the grail quite holy runs away far.
Seek for it, but is to seek the grail
Not the loss of living hours fast?
Famished and forgotten
Will one day be after it has seen
Asphodeltrodden Inanna
On her underworld journey—
Abandon all expectations ye
Who have been bequeathed with
Lustrous life
Quenched with the realness of reality, dark
Wherein colours glow
And transparency dance.

The Sacredance of the floralpetals,
The Dolcissmic fall of the leaves,
Yet when it is palpated
It turns pallid.
The hopefilled green dissipates in thin air
And all that is left is sombre dolesomeicgrim.

In the seesaw of life and death,
There, a life
There, the dead
And yet when dead man’s lost bones
In the rats alley
Is restored
And from it riseth the dead man—Necromancion—
The resurrected man,
The risen dead men,
Cries and howls to be
Interred with the ground.
Dead!
To be turned into ashes,
Yes, Dead!

The trees of life
Show no mercy, and
the trees of dead are dead, battered.
“The dead tree gives no shelter,
The Cricket no relief,”
Feigning silence
Exasperating breathe
The breathe
Heavy breathe.

I remember
‘Twas Thursday
Thirstday.
In the canvas was water and water
Splashing hither and thither,
Tempestuously clashing
The water, multitudinous drop,
The drop,
The water
Bluebesmearedcanvas
Resembling water.
When I approached the canvas,
Towards water I approach,
Water drained itself leaving the canvas
As barren as a wasteland
Without water,
As barren as the mundane human life
Without definite purpose,
A purpose to serve,
A purpose perhaps a purpose.
Lacking Purpose,
Lacking Colour,
Lacking Life.
Life. Life.

The shadows that we dragged
Underlight,
The light that was bright
And light.
The dragged shadows which rubbed the ground,
The floor,
Shadows could not withstand it anymore.
And thus even the shadows left us.
And we were abandoned by the shadows.
Yes! Shadows.
Cruel in our deeds.
Cruel in our thoughts.
And so loneliness had begotten new thoughts.
The thoughts of emptiness.
Life being barren.
Barren and barren.

I have tried
To tie a knot around the neck
No No No No
To tie a knot with a rope- ‘round the neck.
As one does when one is suffocated of life.
As one does when mercy isn’t bequeathed by life.
The Sclerenchymatous rope
With its Sclerenchymatous steed and strength,
But when rope I tied ‘round the neck,
The neck.
The rope which twice I checked.
The rope which I tied ‘round the neck
Frayed within an instance, even when checked.
Cruel Life.
Cruel Death.
To live a hard life,
Hard death
Which awaits at the
Precipice of a hard life.
Cruel life.
Life and Death.
Amen!