fading night:

On days, when I cannot make friends with sleep

I let night walk into my home through windows, 

along with her trespassers like fireflies and snow.

I tug to her,

leaving behind the boundaries of vowels and consonants, 

and the warmth of verses and metaphors 

and poetry.

While the foot-steps of night, leave shadows and afterthoughts- 

between a meek here and a wanted there

I inhale desires, as bright and fragile, 

as an evening in the banks of Kashi,

and I can write no more. 

 

.

Sometimes, after all is gone 

the windows and the nights, and the snows and the fireflies, 

what remains is a silent impulse;

verisimilitude.

To make meaning of empty things and broken words that are 

incomplete for me. Without the letters to your name

such words, like love and peace and home .  

So, 

Sometimes, I let night walk into my home through windows,

to float around me like a bridge to the country of dreams

while I fold your thoughts and keep them safe, 

on your side of bed, 

where no one sleeps.

  

Raj Shekhar Sen