Wanderers by moon

Darkness falls and shrouds our world,

And long slumbering beasts awaken;

With raised heads, and claws uncurled,

They wait with infinite patience,

For the moment they can, readily escape,

From shadows where light be forbidden;

And sniff the air for unconscious prey,

Within reach, unfortunate and unbidden.

Long they have hungered, and hoped in vain,

Till night o’er them hath befallen;

And with moon and stars, they rise again,

The beasts to beauty, wretched and forgotten.

By howl of wind and wolf alike,

Prepared to hunt, unencumbered;

For rules by day, are hidden and ground

Into stardust, till dawn be remembered.

Nothing remains, not bone nor decay

For nothing is left, worthy of remains;

Nothing is heard, or pretended be heard,

Screams of terror, lost forever in pain.

A hat, a coat, a scarf, that once belonged

Thievery struck, a beggar in want

No sign of a struggle, no need for a lie

For those who are lost, never survive.

Sreedevi Jagannath.

Dreams in the summer sky.

Its one thing that I wake in the morning to see that it’s a rainy day.

It’s entirely another to wake up most mornings and simply feel that way.

Most mornings I just wake up, admiring the way the light plays with the sky blue of my walls, blurring the edges of the walls into a generous summer sky, irrespective of the weather outside. I further the feeling by drawing curtains, the colour of a stormy sky; where the clouds are thickening, but not thick as to sport the grey uniforms of somber soldiers.

It lends a pattern to the summer sky around me, patches of golden interspersing the faultless expanse. In the quiet gloom of the morning hours, it gives my dream addled brain a little longer to hold on to the fantastical images that lend extraordinary depth to pre-dawn dreams.

And then the waking dream has to end, as all dreams must.

It is not the end I fear, but the dream itself. For if there is no dream then there will be nothing to end.

A quote for the Romantic

"Romance to the sensitive soul, is as water to the gentlest flower - nourished by enough, withered by too little and smothered in too much."

Sreedevi.