The Storms

Piyush Jain
 
Oh! What a day it was!
Time had become indiscreet, senses involuntary, life disgraceful…
I switched on the fan, it was my room
And everything started to fly, the pages, books,
Small mosquitoes from their non-defiant sense of ease over everything they found cool.
Plastic translucence of my water bottles too came in the traps of the unruly heave of the made up wind,
I was scared and it felt uneasy,
At first the pain of the scruffiness,
Turning to the recklessness inside.
The harsh wind, man-made created holes everywhere.
My mind was dumb, and eyes soon became numb
It remembered what was lost, what never could be,
It imagined ways of breaking down the doors and changing
The senses of personal Hell in other people’s minds.
What was lost and what gained became a blur,
The turbulence mingled everything and an invisible fire it begun.
In which burnt not just the hopes,
But also all that could bring it back.
Burnt were the desires, the amazements,
Burnt were the darkness, the hesitations,
Words evaporated, circumnavigated and fell in the outer space,
Gained speed and left the minds, deserted the worlds
The only things left were ideas, of happiness, of worthlessness,
Of self-consciousness and curiousness.
Of everything and nothing,
The only other thing found was a history,
History of a single room,
By its single possessor,
Which became the purest and most unbiased.
They took time, to entice the disruption,
They planned and planned and thought of an answer.
They pointed here and ran there,
They filled the spaces with rigorous gear.
An elaborate plan was thought upon to create a dungeon for one and all.
But only forgetful as they always were,
They ended up with only a pair and
Put two more huge fans up there.
But the world had changed, it had mended
The storm though never passed, but the wonders ended.
The dawn was not of streaming reflections of unusual creativity.
Those ordinarily outside of in the fierce world
From which they always hide,
They were too many and the storm too less
And they found a way to find solace.
Even the world of the bully storms as was there
Never bothered them now, never brought any fear.
It was in them and not in the elites,
To live happily even in the worst of the highs.
Share on Google Plus

About Editor SNSharma

Author, Planning and Publishing Consultant
http://www.pen2print.org/