Quiet Musings

By Rohit Nāg

Question that anyone would beg to ask,

"What path of men do you intend to tread, boy?"

Although they'll ever see is but the mask,

Burning to become what others burn to destroy.

Pursuing gentle alleviation of grief,

I uncovered the lyricism of mourning.

Vestments of frailty having bequeath,

The fabric of reality contorting.

An aesthetic of remembrance elusive,

Compressing complexity into singularity.

Shades of dimensions disillusive,

Introspection tethered to gravity.

Sensuality refined by discretion,

Layered intimacy inspires beauty in decay.

I feel sound, bleed thought, taste emotion,

Compelled by loyalty, yet courted by betrayal.

Naught, but a performance with a soul,

Or a philosopher with a broken lamp,

A lion trying to catch goldfish in a sewer,

Now naked, revealed, unencumbered I stand.

By Rohit Nāg