Tuesday, March 09, 2010

The Seer

How long have I lived?
Is my hair the white
of burning desert sand?
Are my hands gnarled?
Like roots twisting, turning
desperate in their search
for just a drop of water
in the deep recesses of
this barren earth?
Does my back bend
as I tread on weary feet?
Do my knees tremble
with every faltering step?
Is there no light in my eyes?
Do you see the sorrows
swimming in their murky depths?
Like ashen, shapeless ghosts?
Is my skin like coarse parchment?
Like a yellowing paper
cracked and crumbling to dust?
Is there a tremor in my voice?
Does it sound hollow, feeble?
Has all zest left me?
Has beauty turned her back?
Can you tell me what you see?
For they say I'm young
yet I feel old.
And I dream of tragedies
yet untold.

4 comments:

Sahar Sehgaal said...
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niv said...
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varun said...

this one i like.. deep... dude u are a good poet... and definately a good writer.. write a book... :)

life said...
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