The Fish

Who fathoms to dare more than a fish in those gloomy,
unfriendly waters of sin and loneliness. Water green and cold,
deceiving in every possible movement -
immeasurable.

The body moves on; in search of the unknown - no it’s not the
search, anticipation of it, hidden desire,
an adventure.
That tingle of excitement and half naked fear in deep murkiness.

The twirls of dust and disgust rising from the vast deep,
making the surrounding and the distant ever
unclear.
The fish challenged, unmitigated, fins clenched with seething
amber, moves on; the wake visible and seeping moments later,
indistinguishable.
Lost forever.

Who, but path bears the burden of the lost, defeated and
those aimless travelers. Never recognizing him again;
never remembering to forget.

The fish is gone to the unknowns and the way lost.
Someday another fish who would fathom the dare will come
into these murky waters -
with twirls of disgust.
She shall make a new path
only to lose it,
once again.

PS : My first attempt of writing which barely only I can call as poetry.

In the absence of my thoughts lies the greatest presence of my being.

The guilt guilds me in a
crown of shame -
My ego is too tall; I
can't hide my face in knees
for the same.

Neither death nor hope
can put an end,
all in vain.
I shall live the hell of eternity
and kill the albatross
to drink the blood of life,
pain.

From the sands of time
loud and grand
Fell a grain
with infinity in hand

Undaunted I rose, to walk the emptiness
with all the might
I can.

In eternity, came the point as an end
to ponder and bend.
alas ! here is where the time
stopped and once -
began.

A figment of imagination crossed my mind
with a wake of thorns
and a tense jerk behind.

I cede now, only to stop
look and smile,
for it to find
that one day the veil will
be broken and the roles exchanged
as a measure of repay -

in kind.

the maids

.....and it ended with Claire drinking the cup of tea with 9 sleeping pills. An end act performed at the incisive push from 'the only justifiable direction' based on the plays premises. The only repercussion possible at a nearing dead end. Tiresome monologue of Solange about her rejection of virtues and mismatched social perspective, giving way to Claire's relieve from the same.

Circles are always vicious. And so can be reasoning. The familiarizing repeated rounds of run and endless juggles of arguments converge at a common point- infinity. This was the basic idea behind this magnificent play ( says sartre ) of course, sprinkled all over with existentialist reckonings ( I concede ).

Just finished reading it. Took sometime to read and little more to digest. Now it's your time to read it. I have a void in my brain.