The void of black : The Tribune India

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Rhyme Time

The void of black

The void of black

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Run, run, eyes, eyes everywhere, prying and preying.

I cannot discern, are they watching?

Why are they watching?

They are watching.

These unbounding disdainful visions of piercing contempt and malice influence me greatly, all that I think, all that is within me, of which I carry the weight.

I cannot seem to evade them, their overly expeditious gaze directed upon my vessel and visage and upon the façade I project unto all.

Snipes all of them, they are watching now. Now I feel them pervading, pervading into my mind, breaching the sacrosanct walls that were erected tall like those of Constantinople.

What now?

They scrutinize, they criticize.

What now? Run, run away, abscond to the edge of all there is and may peace of heart find you there.

But it won’t, it cannot, for they will be watching, intently, and they will not stop, for not much hinders the wandering gaze and not much holds the power to, to the dismay of all who are watched.

In this forest of skyscrapers, they will watch, lest you escape to the forest, the forest of beings, beings of nature.

Into this wooded paradise I have escaped, on this side of paradise, green is the ground and black the firmament.

But do they still watch?

Can I not elude the insolence of these supercilious beings?

What lies there?

Salvation?

Could it indeed be what I have sought?

No, run, be certain of this mirage of miraculous apparition.

My propinquity to it is great, my vision, as of the moment, lies on a crack in the dirt of this damned paradise.

A chasm of chaos, it seems, but lies at the bottom of which my salvation.

I hear them now, they are coming, they are here, their gaze protruding from dark corners, watchful and conscious of my movements.

Into this void of black I now have cast this mortal vessel for my soul shall stay eternal and from this abyss it shall rise.

Black envelops all and nothing moves nor do I hear them anymore, have I been successful?

Or trapped in a crate of my own creation.

Pratham Kamboj, Class XII, Gurukul Global School, Manimajra

 


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