Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: art, birthday, child, children, dream, India, literature, magic realism, mist, music, nightmare, philosophy, poem, poetry, rhythm, surreal, surrealism
A maddening music of the mist
Dispersed
Spread like dreams
Of a child
Knew nothing but nightmares
Wrapped in golden ribbons
On his birthdays
Celebrated annually
Every week or so
With vacuum-filled balloons
And two invitees
One, a solemn clown
Another, a multitude of guests
All rumored to be lost
Together
Went waltzing, like breeze
Into
A maddening music of the mist.
A nightmare
Wrapped in golden ribbons
For a child
Realizing
Music is a window
Has two sides to it
Each side darker than the other
And choosing sides is an option
You cannot choose
Not to repeat
Until
A maddening music of the mist
Stops
And you realize
That you were the nightmare
Wrapped in golden ribbons
Dreamt by the solemn clown
Invited
In your birthday bash
Celebrated annually
Every day or so
And you’ve just turned hundred
There.
Here.
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