Writing as a Last Resort

Now there’s too great a gulf

Between him

And everybody else around him.

He anticipated the approach

Of the comet

Which appeared as if from nowhere.

He thought it would

Just graze his planet

Sending shock waves on a limited scale.

But it banged right into…

The immediate impact could not be felt

As the senses went cold and numb.

An eerie emptiness, a stunning silence

Enveloped his kingdom within

While his planet went into a spin,

Clueless and rudderless.

No one came.

There was no way to be found,

For darkness oozed from everywhere.

A step or two in the dark

Always met with blocks on the path

Clogged by debris all around.

Thus shut out from all the outside world,

Fed up of the fate unrelenting,

He now practices being a star-rover

Trying to come to terms

With the profundity of the loss.

There’s no worldly cure

As the damage is wrought

By a power outside it.

It could be set right

By them alone.

Meantime, he is not going to give up.

He will be up every night

Looking for the images

That would best describe

The strangeness of his existence.

First published in The Poetry Society (India)

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