The light at the end of the tunnel was dimming
when she held my hand and said this was the time
to dive in the netherworld of experiences
move beyond you and me
where we will never be the you and me
but perhaps there would be one
who would refuse to join in
pulling out at the last time
from the crevices of hope
for history to fill his story
with certain myths
He would be the hero
who never joined the turn of the
road when it swirled around breaking
narratives of the day to day life we lived in
he would never know the last fairy tale
which lulled the yet unborn to sleep
In these labyrinths of never ending tales
he would never know the sun
which used to wake before us in the dawn
and cuddled us to sleep in the dusk
or of the river which refused to carry our memories
the snow which melted to remind that it
was never late for a spring in life
or of the tiny boy which was me
who never knew the tree he rooted in the soil
will turn up to devour him one day
Will he ever know that there was a small girl
born on the day he refused to come home
who never wanted to play with her toys
but just hold on to her gun
for in her dreams she still saw the monster
which curled under her bed even before
the threads of innocence could enamour her
Perhaps he was just a hero to be
as all heroes are, born out of a myth
for they sustain the myth which we see
all the day in the mirror
a mask which we dont acknowledge
a tale which will dominate on all those lips
of grandmas who never relieved a dream
never created a tale of their own, tied and
crumbled and crushed under the bounds
of social
Yet you would be born with
Yet you would be born with
the same story in your mouth not knowing
drying lips and dying dreams crushed under
the smell of gunpowder and receding imagination
of a grain lying in the shallows of nourishment
In the dimming light there lay a creation
between you and me
not of a hero to be
nor songs which will die down when the
music sings but a secret caravan of beauty
which starts from desires of being
of what lies as the shadow of towering
images dominating my stories
and as skyscrapers filling the contours of 'beings'
where you and me used to lie around forbidden waters
