Yet to Name It

Waking into the awareness of reality

So despairing, am I losing my sanity?

Neither the sunshine bring cheer

Nor does the rain.

The gloom from the clouds grey

Penetrates into the mind.

The outer and inner well connected

By the bridge of thoughts fraught

With inertia of being.

Words lift me up from the rut

Otherwise, I can simply go kaput.

I want to fit in between the words

Outside world, I have become a mis-fit.

In the fitness of things, I make this confession.

I will have my way, bereft of any opposition.

In the inner world I have discovered

The words in every nook and corner

Words have become my world.

A world without any hatred

Where division is only arithmetic

Where caste has been cast away

Where no one goes hungry.

It is too unrealistic to build a bridge

With the outer where the inner can reflect.

Noise outside is resonating with the noise inside

As peace eludes as usual.

The outer noise is one, that of a livelihood for someone.

Inner noise of that a boredom in the mind.

Mind will not rest

Till that one book is written

And the world gets smitten.

Showdown with the daughter

End of laughter, does it matter?

Lacking love, these relationships

Caught in the stormy water, rudder less ships.

The environment outer vitiated deeper

Seeping into the environment inner

Of the future lies the dark winter.

Wisdom not a constant but a flickering light

Reminds one of the fire flies, not so bright.

Words streaming in not so smooth

Emotions bubbling quite uncouth.

Why can’t the waves in the mind ever cease?

The constant tide disturbs the mental peace.

Why the hollow in the stomach I can’t follow?

I lie on the bed for comfort tucking in with a pillow.

The day that followed I find myself with low energy

Going about my activities with lethargy

Living a life of an apology.

Wish I could put my memory in my safe in a bank locker

I just need to remember how to operate my bank account

To use the money to meet my needs.

Where can I run away, memory comes with me?

Like a cauldron bubbling with thoughts.

Thoughts never cease until sleep takes over

Will death be the state when one can sleep forever?

Just when you wish the day will pass off soon

It hangs, it lingers, it weighs heavily on you.

It is not as if these things are new

They keep repeating, yet possesses you.

These thoughts from the memory.

Sometimes smoking used to relieve me

But smoking I have left behind.

Lighting up has become a thing of the past.

The words assuage me

Some juice is still left

Writer is still alive and kicking.

I have been adding to the bucket list

As an atheist I don’t know to pray

until the time this will go on

When finally, I shall kick the bucket.