‘The Beginning’

It fears me

the blank stretch ahead

that awaits filling

my each movement recorded

these ghosts,

haunt or smile?

I can’t tell.

 

In my early morning rush,

I see them

as I climb down,

I see them

and I see them as they linger with the sun

fading and sharpening.

 

Then, as the light sets,

a chill rises down

these ghosts disappear

as quickly as it came.

 

I run to seek comfort in the familiar

I breathe in the freshness,

freshness in calmness,

freshness in tiredness

freshness in the dying smoke.

2 Comments

  1. oh my god, what a sensitive poem !!!!!!!
    this is the most beautiful text i read since a long time…..thank you so much and keep going on …!

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