The Full Moon floats above,
A White Gravestone, witnessing countless lives and its ends,
It hides on its side where we cannot see,
Creatures that are immortal, like itself.
They are the vampires.
Like the moon exists,
by Drawing Light from the Sun,
These vampires sustain, by sucking blood,
Of people on the planet below.
The Sun sets, the Moon rises,
The vampires fly down and scout the skies,
For prey that amble on the ground.
Swooping down on the unsuspecting,
Satiating their thirst for life by ending it.
Sheeba, the vampire, was intrigued by,
This line between mortality & the immortal,
A life they have, but it always has an end,
Whereas those such as she, Exist forever,
Without an End, is it Life?
She sought to seek, to find an answer,
Are these temporary moments worthwhile.....
She followed a young boy, saw him take his first steps,
She saw him utter his first words and his first laugh.
His first love, his first heartbreak, she felt it.
His first success, his first fame, she enjoyed it.
She saw all the moments that made his life,
And also those that he wished did not.
He soon lost his vigour, his clarity.
Slowly he forgot more and more about him,
Who he was, What and Why he was here,
He came with a cry, but now he left, without a voice.
Sheeba watched, confounded with the irrationality of it all,
Where is the purpose, Where is the satisfaction,
She had to bring him back, she had to ask Him,
Have you seen enough? Is that all that there is??
She plunged her fangs into his corpse,
And closed her eyes, The Kiss of Life flowed in,
While he regained those moments,
She saw flashes of her own life striking by.
They both now faced each other,
She Eager to know, Him still dazed, He took a while to take in,
What had happened to him, And what it is going to hold forth.
Once he was quiescent, she asked,
Have You seen All? In that ephemeral span you called life?
He did not know what to tell. He did not know.
He asked her then,
Have you Seen all? In the eternity that you have existed?
She did not know, She had indeed seen All, but still, Is that all?
Where is the purpose? Where is the satisfaction,.
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There is No such thing.
It all being relative,
It is In the End, if There Is,
What You Want It To Be.
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5 comments:
U no nanda... u hv spelt out ur thots so clearly.. i feel even those who alwz hv mixed up thots wil be clear abt many things after reading this... Beautifully written, amazing thot process... seriously... no amount of appreciation wud ever b enuf for this!
tis thing s simply awesum man!!
tis s d best n simply d mst amazingly
crafted masterpiece of art i hv eva cum across...not exaggeratin it,trust me!!
no words!!
al hail ethan!!! :)
Godie!!! this is classy i say :) awwe a bournville poem to be precise;)
Qouting Kahlil- "A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm and arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back to his homeland".
Here i am to cherish every word in the wonderful poem written by you :)
Promising another Bournville & eagerly waiting for much more poems :)
Keep up the good work.
cheers
Khushi :)
now i do not know what to say to you all dear ones.
I was apprehensive whether such a theme would find resonance. But your feedback has been most over-whelming as I found it very difficult to express and was doubtful whether I would make justice to it.
Thank you all so much,..
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