SACHI
RAUT
is broken
into smithereens
in its mighty fold
and dissolved
in its green ego.
There,
in a Corner
sat her gods
wearing tragedy’s face.
Their
vacant looks
neither warm nor cold.
They
know not
what is love
or hatred,
for they are not of human flesh.
They
only trod
the destiny’s frozen path
which is neither new nor old,
and surely smaller
than man’s dimensions.
Together
we can build a world
of empyrean songs,
of colour, odour and feel,
which no god can ever aspire,
for
they are not made of
bone and flesh,
they are just what we think they are,
born of our ephemeral desires
or of the collective will,
in the backdrop of eternity
that knows no change.
They
move and act
with a permissive smile.
They
are the sad profile
of our dreams
classified,
in a sick sick
society.
Freedom
is the essence
of our being,
the breath of our life
and our becoming.
I
pine for her
every moment.
Only
she can bring
Life’s
fulfilment
in freedom’s ample measures,
for
she contains the quality
of love and its splendours
of head and heart.
She
is that
heavenly bird the song of the
wings
that is the ‘thing-in-itself’
and the ‘thing-to-be.’