The song of a dead poet

Lost in the world of maya. A path in every direction seems endless, infinite. Where shall I go? To where I see colourful lights like on a Deepavali night? Or where I see an oasis from a distance through a long, dry desert? I can never be sure of the oasis, it might turn out to be an ocean, a mirage. I am not gifted with such far vision. Extraordinary men are gifted with such vision. I am born ordinary and I live ordinary. I sing and that is my only solace. Through desert and rain alike, I can sing. Looking at a bird I can fly on its wings. Looking at the sky I can be the wind. Closing my eyes I can be the King of lands. I sing, therefore I am...

I thought of taking the path of colours and I thought of taking the path of the deserts. But, I take neither. I am not looking at my feet, I am looking at the sky and the clouds are moving. I do not know if they mean I am, indeed. The sky is endless and so is the land. The sky is free, the land is not. There are no thorns on the sky, no lights of fantasy glittering and drawing senses to its bosom. The sky is free, so am I...

I once followed the glitter. I felt I found heaven. I felt I found my home. I saw no direction diverging from my home, the ground was so green, the air was so pure. I smiled in happiness and sang in joy. The next day I woke up. I wondered if the heaven was only a dream. How could the land be so green and the air so thin? The land was cracked with scarcity, as many scars on its face as many thoughts that ran through my bewildered mind. I sang in despair. I looked at my feet and I cried, I looked at my feet and I had smiled. But I sang throughout, equally in heaven and in hell. Equally as the sky over.

Let the infinite directions direct themselves, I shall not be amused. Let my feet burn in the big sands or be kissed by velvet soil, I shall not rotate my eyes downwards. I look at the sky and sing. I see only one direction here. I have no choice to make. My eyes have gained sight here, I can see farther and farther. This is a way that leads inwards. My song takes me one step ahead, inward. My feet are on thorns, but the feet are not mine. The song is mine. I am the song...

I am a poet. And my feet have now taken off.