By
Tejasvi Saxena
Silence
Silence is a symphony of bare homes
That flourishes in a rhythm of longing
Where dust of space piles on clocks
On books & pens & drawing curtains
On mirror which myths the faces of smiles
Of pain, of rapture, of calm, of delight
All await to hear a sound
A whisper, a talk or laugh resounds
An empty chaos
Where, absence floats
The same one that longs to embrace,
The silhouettes of its lost frames
Such silence perturbs through lively tenors
A whirring of wings
Or, crackling leaves
Chirping crickets
Or, humming bees. . .
Gracious visitors of such homes
Who promise to wait for life
A dweller to play music of soulful vibe.
My Cacophonous Quests
To find oneself in a cacophony
Or lost fragments of a former self
Is to wander in a jungle of foliage leaves
A dense one maybe. . .
I find here pieces of me
Fragile and tender they may be
I may hear echoes of laughter
Or, glint of hope in trails of eyes
I sense the frailty of mortal life
In hollow mouths and wry smiles
And find some naivety of mine
In careless squabbles of restless minds. . .
I decipher the meaning of existence
In jostling bodies, wriggling for space
Anonymous am I
Anonymous are they
Is that what it resembles?
We both are figures unknown to you
An element of absurd, or profound maybe?
I can’t say
Perhaps, that too I shall seek
While finding myself in a cacophony.
Provoking.