GRAFFITI

On a blank stare day,

When conversations around you,

Make circles by your side,

And leave without impaling the mind,

When words that arise

From some alternate vocal cord,

Die somewhere between the throat and the tongue,

When thoughts roughly sync with,

And influence the breath,

When life in all its unfairness,

Has the audacity and malice,

To lay itself bare in front of you,

I was ruminating over a recurrent doubt,

A doubt that had trampled other thoughts for preference,

That had risen above the others

Merely cos of its inconsequentiality…

Where does tear root from?

Not the anatomy, not the physiology,

But the emotional chain of cause,

Cos if I had comprehended well,

It should be here by now,

That dew drop clinging to the corner,

Before letting go,

And all its retinues….

Yes, it should have been here,

Clouding the vision,

Replacing the ‘distance’ in the stare,

Or expanding it….

But Today I am left with just the gaze,

Waiting for the dryness to be replaced,

Waiting for an outburst,

So that when its over,

I can go back to my normal vision…

And as I wait, I wonder,

Where exactly is it coming from,

Why the delay,

Or has my threshold altered?!