Broken Sail

 

Broken Sail

A distant moan,
From a long way into the vascular core.
Each time it boils up to the brim,
Blistering and burning;
Most careful am I to osmose deep -
Soaked and lathered in blood within,
Every speck stitched to the pulp of my being.
Even tainted dried blood, after wash smells rustic.
A strange impulse to return again
To the state of repose, the slumberland,
Where beauty resides in its purest form,
Where time is just an illusion, a song of lies,
But storm does rise, shadows engulf the moon,
Thunder strikes the pillars of peace.
I yearn for myself -
Who savoured senses, awaited hope.
All thats alive, all thats earthy
The blaring hollow and quaint apathy...

Riddhi Chakraborty