A Passing...!

M: Who are You?

N: That is a profound thought.!

M: What is the interpretation?

N: I never intended to fascinate.

M: Does it really matter?

N: Only as much the very reason that you ask.

M: You are crude & inconsiderate.

N: Your apathy is still benevolent.

M: You are blinded by self.

N: True, am not bothered at all.

M: Keep assuring yourself.

N: Sure, such a disappointment you are.

M: As much as you are a wasted obsession.

N: So far, your predicament!

M: The froth on the fumbling mouth!

N: Come away from the mirror.

M: I have gone blind.

N: So much for looking at self!

M: Who are you to Judge?

N: The verdict you seek.

M: I'll let the naivety mock you.

N: Your desire is as limp as your will.

M: I'm my destiny, get off the track.

N: My wilderness, stop trespassing it.

M: Your pride is not worth my hate.

N: Why haggle, value your fright!

M: The Ghost that was his own haunting.!

N: Charade of a ruin is self-mortification.!

M: Stop being a blunt reminder.

N: Succumb to your madness!

M: Am just an oblivion.

N: Nothing can be more sentient.

Dazed Sobriety...!

Be or not, yet in this eternal echo of misery’s cocoon,
My painful cry that never saw the sun or the moon,
Does often resound in the alleys of my mentation,
And strikes back at me, vexing my senses in this swoon.

Dangling your vacuous naught, from my replete hook,
I’ve become an eternal fatigue within & every way I look
I am a forsaken object without any dimensions to me,
Carve from my unable arc a tranquil corner a placid nook.

My replete soul inflicted with the quest of nothing,
Stolidly treads those paths which lead to everything,
But forever at the end of each road it always finds,
Another confounded course to the same old dwelling.

And the night that suddenly befalls the ever-staring eye,
Never discloses the truth, never holds back the lie,
The dejected broken vessel that suits the midday’s cry,
Woefully, fails to quench the thirst of the deplored sigh.

The besetting shores of my mind have met each other,
These somber trails of the tumults are all of a dither,
The foreboding eyes of ocean wide open gazing agape,
The steed has long raced beyond the rope and tether. 

Sometimes I am crowned and bedeck with a sun on my hand,
Sometimes the same me whipped with the lashes of reprimand,
If all such pointless vanity fills the stomach of this treadmill,
Then why am I to no avail, just ordered to make ropes of sand.

As your white apathy has taken all colour from the leaf,
Its bud still nourishes from the black strength of grief,
Happenstance the pang of its cry is veiled from you,
Even so, faith has illuminated the shack of hazy belief.

What good is a song without some tender words?
What worth is the music without any melodious odes?
The clamant orchestration in this hushed up party,
Makes me abandon my path to walk the prohibited roads.

Walking such roads, I reached the market of divine decree,
Penniless as they were, the buyers felt helpless and dreary,
Then my restless gaze reached an unusual stall and I mused,
Why are only the exotic birds caged, why Vultures let free?

Thus witnessed this, through a couple of tiny peepholes,
I view in my darkest room the entire universe sans my soul,
It houses all matter and matters both mundane and divine
But, for trifle myself, no place in it, neither a stage nor a role.