You sat at the murky bottom of a well,
tried to climb out
but your feet failed you,
they did not know how to tread the slippery surface
of the walls,adorned by moss
A glimpse of the sky,tar black,
you watched from the inside,
but soon,you realised,it was actually blue,
that stained the sky with its indelible ink,
draped it in a nebulous gloom.
I tried to reach my arm out to you,
but the dark distance swallowed
my feeble attempt,bruised my skin
blue,a shade so pneumonic and unbeatable ,
couldn't pull you out.
Looking down into the pitch black
of the well,I can see no end,
but at least it is quiet and absolute,
the blue you try to show me,seems
so much colder,uncertain as a dream.
I'm afraid I might slip down too,
I try to reach you a rope this time,
it snags and tears,soon to shreds,
my rope is not enough to
hold you all the way up and out.
What is a hand or a rope
in a sea so lemniscate ,
blue as a painting trying to recreate
a stormy scene,a tsunami,
praying to go back to tranquil black.
No comments:
Post a Comment