he panted heavily
muscles twitching in his naked body
running frenzied, without looking back,
he shouted, “He is after me.... my life”
a rip roaring cry....!

the traffic halted
pedestrians stopped
people from shops came out
women through curtained windows peeped
children stopped their play

“so drunk”.... a man murmured
“A crack”.... someone shouted
“coming right after an ****”
sneered, an oldie...
“pity on him...! Take him to an asylum”
one gentleman suggested.
he needs help, majority opined
‘nab this plague’, the moral police quipped

what is he running from...?

an Assailant....?
corona virus....?
his own phantom...?
two sane men staying,
at a corner wondered.
they had masks on their face

“must be a health worker”..!
one of them said...
“yes, the subtle nuances of an agonized mind”
the other agreed!

as the scene on the road,
had grown into a high voltage drama,
dissensions grew and multiplied!

-
When the screams are silent
And the illusion’s louder
But in a fleeting moment
Reality finally broke in
Causing the facade of
Illusion to collapse
Without warnings.
One could find oneself
Fighting within
To confront the unacceptable
Truth , that
My life is fading away
Right before my eyes and
With few remaining hopes.
And lately as my legs collapsing
Fallen from underneath me
Like my hair during chemo
I’ve felt just how much
I have been holding
Onto fear,  despite living from
My heart, from the light.
Despite telling myself
Not to given into the dark side
Of this journey,
Despite my attempts trying
To convince my mind
My body and my soul
That I have let go of all fears
Convincing myself that I was
Like a great magician and that
I can make all illnesses disappear,
By operating from a place of light
Like the moon, my mentor.
Sometimes having to create
A psychological cage
In my head ,
To keep my thoughts
From wandering and wander
From my canvas of illusion.
Until, recently all has flushed away.
But truth remains
One would never know
Unless I unfold
The rough drawings
Of my life sketchbook,
To even notice my pain
My sufferance In
Between the lines.
Because in my head
Like a great artist
I decide what I paint
I decide what you see
I decide what I believe
I am, I am
A imperfect artist
Who has painted a self portrait
Full of light
Full of hope
So amazingly bright and surprisingly good enough
For even the world's greatest art critique
To notice my cracks on the white canvas.

I used to get very annoyed with my mask
each day I’d implore, “Is it too much to ask -
that my glasses don’t steam up when I walk in a shop
or to not have to swallow down buckets of snot?”
But lately my viewpoint has started to waiver
as I discover new uses for this multi-lifesaver
like wiping the grit from my spectacle lenses
or warming my beard when I’m out mending fences.

Then there are subtler means of employ
(I’m not talking about some ***** *** toy)
where this sliver of material,
though appearing unmanly,
has proven itself surprisingly handy.
Only last week, on a long evening walk
I crept into a church round the back of Earls Court
and sat down to the tones of an ***** concerto
that whirled within me like Dante’s Inferno.
Out of the blue I began to cry
emotions stuffed deep inside reached for the sky,
streams gushed forth from each quivering eye lid
I’d not wept so fiercely since being a kid
yet though it did not cover the whole of my face
with my mask pulled high I was
at least,
saved some disgrace.

When this is all over (I promise it will)
hold a thought for how
your mask did fulfill
so many functions,
besides helping you survive
and perhaps carry one in your pocket
to keep the memory alive.

The blue sky, dotted with white clouds
The sun, in its last lap of race
The slanting rays gleam in crystal glow
Their beauty to the earth they bestow

As I stand and watch this lovely evening
I experience an inner glow of a deific kind
Elegant colors flow and fade
As the sun paints a paradise before me

The river lies arched like a lunar crescent
In my ears falls the sound of lapping waves
As she winds her course through verdant banks,
She speaks a language I can hardly understand

Without pause, she moves on relentless
Eager to join the ocean’s devouring embrace
Scripting the songs of her arduous journey
And chiming her anklets in soundless rhythm

There is a divine sweetness in the air
My exhalation blends with the cool wind
That whirs softly humming a mild tune
Birds get ready for their evening symphony

The twilight smiles and sends the sun away,
Obscuring manifold vistas near and far
Night quickly spreads its dark wings
It's time to make a move, homeward....!