1
*In the masquerade of a poet
he acquires secret wings,
becomes equal parts real and unreal,
treading the twilight zone.
He still is an apprentice
with the conjurer,
incomparable wizard
who never stops amazing
being the anarch of slight of hand,
the illusionist grand,
we in the flow who swim or drown
in the river, known as life
that none ever defined the way it really is.
2
Inside his cubicle
transformed to a scribe by a curse
when he coveted it, was a boon
he is real, all his magical powers robbed
by the day light, realities of life
he is grappling with news
that make his heart grow weak.
He is now a sobbing poet within,
firmly handcuffed to a pact strict,
only to write reports, that's his might
anything of beauty he couldn't escape,
its all pain in forms unimaginable
most of it man made, even famine.
A life swinging between a hope
to come in terms with
the uncertainties of the ebb and flow
that breaks his heart bit by bit,
and facing realities stark that drives a knife
has become the rut, he wouldn't escape.
Dawn peeps through the window blind
he has lost meaning for day and night long time back
when this double life, has trapped him in this pen
