How’s this happening of me holding a pen again?
Trapped in the wit and bound by each vein.
My vision is blurred but my mind is clear;
I’ll take a paper but there’s something I fear.
Combination of thoughts made up inside my head;
The part of life simultaneously alive and dead.
The stars and the moon just one glance away;
Nobody knows how much these eyes weigh!
The eyelids are lift up to feel alive;
Emotions hit and put out the main five.
The dark isn’t enough to devastate;
Oh it's already midnight and the following date!
I can hear my name called out by the adjacent river;
Winds and waves leaving me to shiver.
This world is numb and cold;
My soul is drifting apart and it needs to be hold.
Look I am still breathing;
But my hands are freezing.
Yet I complete the poem and put a full stop of done;
Miracles do happen, I’ve recently experienced one.
Now I keep my pen & paper aside;
This happens all the time and I’m always abide.
Twenty-four hours of exertion and sound;
It requires some peace to be found.
This is an unending chain;
How’s this happening of me holding a pen again?
-Aishwarya Kulkarni