Monday, 25 September 2017

Poetry 2017 Shortlist, Shruti Kolambikar

This Delicate Feeling

The spirits of the monks
and the antiques of love
Like wild fire a moment
And a melody the next
A dream that you want to keep on dreaming.
A dream that descends upon you like rain filled clouds on a stormy night,
thundering down, showering you
with endless affections.
Like a curse, lifted by the spirits, or the melody or the union, or just the magic of the night, I know not,
But lifted it was all the same.
The spirits, they lifted me into the air,
above the ground,
floating, but stationary.
Stagnant, not only in space but, also in time.
The spirits left my body,
But I was left floating,
then it dawned upon me,
that it wasn't the spirits that
left me in this state,
but that elating sensation
Didn't make sense to me completely
But I wouldn't bother to engage in logic,
for fear of losing this delicate feeling.

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