The voice calls out to me, I hear it everywhere and at all times. I hear it when I am working, when I am talking, when I am laughing, when I am crying. I try to shut it out; I try to forget about it, I pretend it does not exist.
It is like the scream of a falling angel. It calls my name and I turn my head away. It calls again and again, relentlessly, without stop and try as hard as I may, I just cannot ignore it. It whispers in my ears like the murmuring of leaves. It has so much joy and so much sorrow, it sings me to sleep in the most beautiful musical notes, it splits my head into two in tumultuous discord, and it begs at my feet and then overwhelms me with its power.
When the city sleeps it keeps me awake. When there is not a soul in sight, it calls out my name. It calls out my name, again and again and I realize I am its slave. But how sweet is the bondage and how beautiful is the pain. The tears that stream down my face are those of joy and the voice echoes in my mind like a prayer.
It is like the scream of a falling angel. It calls my name and I turn my head away. It calls again and again, relentlessly, without stop and try as hard as I may, I just cannot ignore it. It whispers in my ears like the murmuring of leaves. It has so much joy and so much sorrow, it sings me to sleep in the most beautiful musical notes, it splits my head into two in tumultuous discord, and it begs at my feet and then overwhelms me with its power.
When the city sleeps it keeps me awake. When there is not a soul in sight, it calls out my name. It calls out my name, again and again and I realize I am its slave. But how sweet is the bondage and how beautiful is the pain. The tears that stream down my face are those of joy and the voice echoes in my mind like a prayer.
posted by shreya at 4:20 AM
2 Comments:
whoa!!you were in one of your moods huh! at 4 in the morning!
The streetlight plays upon a lonely puddle, streaked with oil;
As day breaks over the old train platform.
And each color as it dances off the crumbling floor,
Sings a song in praise of the Beloved's day.
Azure, it unfolds at the break of dawn, like dewdrop frail on a tulip cup
Orange it glows in the morning sun, with the promise of a day that starts in hope
Yellow it gleams in the noonday sun; a bright smile come whatsoever may
A strong tan it turns in the fading light, as strength of purpose keeps languour at bay
Deep mauve it burns in the autumn twilight, as the day's candle in gathering darkness lies
From pink to crimson, all the hues of red, turn brighter from the spark of her shining eyes
A color this world can never know, takes hold, as she closes her eyes at night
And melts all the colors of her gentle rainbow, in dreams of serene and tranquil white.
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