Standing Stone.
STANDING STONE.
In my image of standing stone
I dared to move beyond
Chilled time lines
Or perhaps my physicality
Will evolve
Like unto some warm flesh
Exposed to the wintry rains
Or to vagrant summer nights.
I may be a word
In constructions of dreams
An angelic legend serrated
With wings clipped
An eagle soarful of
The harassed heights
Spurred by winds
Of the plaited horns.
The bright white
Lights of afternoons
Will snatch horizons
From trembling shadows
And might smuggle in
A maudit melancholy
To upset prescribed sermons.
With cut face
Within my stony profile
With chipped voices
Within my throat
A circular solitude
Within my dreams
I may be ready to scribe
Some strange tales
Quilled in dripped bloods
For annals of the unknown.
Durlabh Singh.
