At the fjord
a body floats on a board
how it got there
no one knows

At seaside
you pushed against the tide
I didn't send you off
but you came back

I begged for you
at least stay true
keep away
your harmful attitude

There you are
washed ashore from afar
How did you get here
and why did you come?

It took me so many beaches
and seas just to reach this
a part of my own
somewhere to calm

You will never know
with what I fought and how
I can't make you more
than a in-the-back-of-my-head thought

I kneel down next to you
I don't know if you sacrificed and what you've been through
I'm feeling reluctant to cut you off
but it's too late for other choices

I smile, I'm sorry
I won't forget, don't worry
I take a rock
and end it then and there

The silver tide sloshed to the shore
But soon shivered back to the black
It was leisurely lured once more

Purple at the edges of the sky
Bleeding into strands of tide
Moves to where your eyes abide
When lips divide
In essence of the line
...Cool beans

Beneath a wave
as it rolls overhead
there's a moment of fright
in missing the crest

but it comes again
and goes off
no end

Though crashing now
in the tumult of water
eventually resurfacing
beginning to grow
and rolling over
the peaks
of once before

Do you hear water wherever you go?
The hum,
the slosh,
the drum,
the stroke.
Always moving, potentially drowning us slow.
Like how happy people hear music
you hear the tide,
and the moon tugging gently;
you have nowhere to hide.

You feel depressed and lost
For all the pain and the cost.
Your efforts have gone in vain,
You are struggling to stay sane.

It is so hard to remain in the light
When you have already lost the fight.
You are watching the curtains closing,
While the world is sleeping.

Your life has been a bumpy ride
Always changing with tide.
And as the sequence continues,
You are scared that you will lose.

Yet, here you stand with the will to try.
Yet, here you stand prepared to fly.









Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.

When Fire met Ice
time froze in the heat of the moment.

The clock can only click again
when the flames face the sun.

While the tide pulls tight,
wishing for an endless, silent night,
true flames can only burn bright for one.

Lights out, or sun over gun?