Note for the readers: This is a poem I had written nearly 14 years back, with a young, unrestrained mind. Fresh from the University, my head was brimming with poetic lines, and the emotions were delicate, honest, but raw, unbridled and devoid of precision. I remember I had put a lot of long elipses, periods and also long hyphens in between the lines, and looking at them now, I thought them awkward and odd. With a little bit of editing, this is what the poem looks like in its present state.
Midnight and myself, two silent partners speaking to each other,
Clutching at each other in sensuous extremity.
One says another: “How do we speak out, each time, in silent warmth?”
The other hisses, ”In keen memory, we have stored our silences like mistresses!
We adore them in shady depths of secrecy.
They never ask for
Lucid exclusiveness of speech.”
A knock on the door, Secrets enter. undress quietly before the mirror
Of time, or…infinitude…
The skull contains them all,
Love lost in crooked, restless flight
Flesh and bone struggling with myths of light.
The inner and outer storms migrated to suppression,
In the “living” without “life”!
And now, they fill the room with voices and presence,
None can see, nor hear at all.
With wordless mouths, then, let us plunge into unspeakable depths
Never explored by spoken truths, or spoken impostures.
Let us write, with inkless pens, the wordless history
Of strained breasts and crisped fingers:
Midnight and Myself,
Two silent partners will carry
Secret breaths and unspoken histories
To the fleshless depths of solitude.
Silence, we have the key to unlock thy gates,
Now, let us plunge into thee.