Vaizasa

Past swirls in a blur,
like shadows they chase
the candle’s flicker.
They dance around
like drunks in a fervor,
images of a life
fading out of sight.

Reminiscence of a tense,
bygone, yet one of light.
Not in gold or matters of possess
but in poverty of thoughts, mindful.
No shades sullen,
woes befallen,
striven or to obsess.

Fly me away,
O, my mistress of Change.
Fly me away,
beyond the walls
of this life, begotten.
For this air breathes strange
drowning me in waters, black.

Swollen insides and
a dried buccal, I behold,
all blood in a fold.
Fearful of cold ganders
and voiced lashings
of a world,
I no longer understand
like an infant,
I lie curled.

Death is to be free
stab me and let
the blood crumble
as an age of nothing
caves in, a heart, set free.
Dagger, hurt me, for
in pain, I shall glow.

Fly me away,
O, demon of life.
Fly me away,
for under your wings,
I shall slumber.
In dreams I shall live,
smile, love and lust,
for gist I shall find,
in the depths of Vaizasa.

Picture courtesy of Sourabh Paul Photograph

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