The stringed up self

Geetha Ravindran

And my aspirations
Speculated though
Sputtering candle-wicks
That dimly burn
Would brighten with haste
Withering frustrations
Proclaim - the death for the earthly
Is inevitable…

The used up wishes
Hovering afloat
After- burners unkindly spent
The Cimmerian bleakness
The blank nothingness spared…

Still remains there something
Does refrain from vanishing;
May kindle itself on
Out ranking the oblivion!

The inane self whispers
What neglected be done
Dejecting the re-mimicking thoughts
Of addicted ‘perhaps’ and ‘if only’…

Yes, deep from the vastness
They do grimace
Starring light-jets
Neither any ‘perhaps’
Nor any ‘if only’.

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