Nostalgia Series – The Arch of Life

The arch of life curves my way

Sorrows, prayers! She seldom misses one

The night’s aplenty, I rue the day

My cradle years, all but dust and done.

Crystal flashes blind my inner eye-

An obscure reality where I must now lie;

Of tumult, uncertainty, troubling risk

Time reaches out; she snatches the whisk

To stir up a precarious pie.

Weak arms reach out in a dire plea-

Wrest me from this earth instantly.

Dont pry open my eyes, lest I shall see-

The taken roads winding vacantly

Gazing o’er hedges, gazing right at me.

O! Father, life is but a game to thee,

All of it but a painless routine

Tonight and morrow shall be just as serene-

The naivete of youth is beauty.

All he mutters is gospel to me

And all he stutters tumbles from my mind

To rest like so much fly ash on the concrete-

The gusts of time leave none behind.

Sweep the webs and the spiders along

My hero! My hero! So goes the song-

Sing it aloud, are there any takers?

Sing it aloud in the arms of your maker

The ashes stick to the lawn.

I squirm and shift in his feeble grasp

Now too frail to carry the load.

A tumble, a rumble, and palms enclasped

Unlock- as our tethers explode.

Kiss me this morn? Asked the sky of earth;

O’er two decades since that fateful birth

The fall is quick, like a lover’s tryst;

The earth is scorched, like sunburn kissed

Of ash, there is no dearth.

Pale as fleece, beyond man and wild

I look up to the fractured skies.

The child is gone; gone is the child-

A shake of the head, a vacant sigh.

Father, O Father! You’re not quite as tall

Standing before the writing on the wall,

Is that a tear adorning your cheek?

Why do you shiver like the winter bleak?

Only the ashes hear my call.

The salted lungs of a gravelly storm

With paper skin like battered reeds

What are words I must now form?

For a master I can no more heed.

They bare their deepest soul to me-

I refuse, I refute, it cannot possibly be;

A life of errors, of rights and wrongs,

Of sins and follies, a roster long

The ashes swirl; I cannot see

Oh! Take me back, right this way-

To a world of perfect harmony.

Where strong arms lead the wicked way

The bliss of ignorance wrought a symphony-

Like a naive babe, might I stay prolonged?

Before the woes of grownups befall

I look to the wall, see the tortured scrawls-

I can hardly see through the ash at all.


The official media house of NIT Trichy.

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