‘The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.’
Written at the old home in Portland by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
1. Rains…
Memories are Epileptic. Did you ever wanted to think that way? If you do you would realise that some memories go through a momentary freeze. A disorder. Never to be reclaimed ever. They lie hidden and cold between the existence of us.
2. Silence…
“Can I love you the way your hair loves this earth?
Can I hid within you as the harshness of a man usurps my soul?
Will you once again sing the gypsy song,
always sung to make the amends of the ravages caused by the war ? “
3. Scent…
Will you sing a song for me,
simple and easy?
Will you write me a letter,
describing how a scent of fresh rain falls on your kohl lit eyes and,
reaching to your half open trembling lips?
Will you please kiss me for the last time, before you walk away from me,
and I burn the sky?”
4. You
‘how I mellow in your glowing skin, how I twist my ankles to see your lunar eyes.
how you melt within my amber chest, how you took away my sorrow and plant a red kiss.
How you and I are never told…..”
5. Poetry
Someday I will wither and lie beside those fallen leaves.
Someday I will become your memories, past and grey.
Someday I will not fear anymore the way I look at me.
Someday I will not try to know what it takes to be your love.
Before that someday let me at least live now…”
We are all hidden in the dark,finding our way together to the light. Many define the light before the light is reached and fix on their defining. There in the dark we clamor for others to embrace their defining, demanding its elevation, and giving it names they claim as sacred…
“Inception” takes place, for the most part, in a dream. Now the question arises can we create a Dream? What i believe is that we live in a world of Diffused Light.By throwing away lights to a hard source, with a diffusion, one can isolate elements on a certain territory of space. Now this gap between the original space and the isolated space could be claimed as the beginning of a Dream’…
And Inception?
I can’t imagine a world without the ceaseless ocean of darkness, falling upon each other like the tidal waves and giving birth to a faint leak of whiteness, what we may know as the beginning of an yet another myth. An Imagination.
Sat Biswas 