Bygone Are Not Gone

The radio exasperated under the burning sun,

with no one springing their arms to count on its droplets of sweat,

I crop its image in my eyepiece and its frequency in my storming ears ,

When all of a sudden I make a tryst with the words like the stringing tail of a scorpion forming calligraphy in the air of misty sunburn,

I seemed to beat on the boat being born back ceaselessly into the past of black and white,

And I began to shuffle memories trying hard to find a spark that would lead me into the tunnel of my grandma’s local train,

The train first arrived in this cobweb of emotions somewhere before the period of ill fortune and saw us quench our unending quest,

It travelled and travelled,

On tracks of all land, all weather, of all civilization which makes me wonder what is beneath her indefatigable hide which has not yet broken into fragments,

Her face crinkled and wrinkled like a palette of innumerous holes filled with rainbows of colors unknown ,

She has woven a plethora of memories of vibrant and dull ones,

Maybe because she is old,

So does this radio seems to me,

It has vocalized trumpets and grandeur of victory and soft melodies of upturned roses,

Of indelible songs with hymning lips,

Of eerie coverlets of its frequency shortage,

Of tales of the midnight seeping in to touch the tombs of the cursed undead,

The rolls kept moving and saw The BEATLES entangling the minds of all the man and then soon dripping from the lips of many as the offspring overtook,

From change in frequency to change in its body it has faced all,

But yet out of all the memories one stand by,

And I guess it's my one,

With no change,

It’s the same, still like the most learned wise man in the country and the most antique thought,

Just that the finger which use to scroll its body in the curtains of black and white no more caress its scrolls,

As the curtains have drooped and a new flag of vibrant flame and floral thoughts have taken its place,

Civilization changed and I guess soon it will be found under a loop of sand dune waiting to be excavated,

Waiting until one breezy day the sand will pave the path for a young soul to find it with the amusement of Aladdin and caress its body to match with the frequency of his breath,

And he will find a Gene long residing in there………