In This Blindness
The great blindness comes within sight
ahead of the umbrage, twilight.
Yes, I know the other connotations this
refers when we discuss about it in
the milieu of insects sizzling like a critic's grin
against a totem lamp and time.
You say, youthfulness of the decadence
disturbs you the most. So green. So dying.
I wipe the firmament, read fate in Braille.
My wishes canoe down Montaro, begs for
forgiveness. My flesh flies into a flame.
You grin again. Existence cannot provide
a solution to the death.
Silence, I request. A child runs a wheel
near the horizon. Because of the dim,
because of the pollution we cannot see him,
but can't we feel him embossed on the sky,
earth and beneath?
Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac's Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)
Author Page - amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet