Revisited Banks

A Poem by Vivek Koshy

This poem was written on revisiting the river Pampa.

I look into the possessions,
Of the Pampa;
And the meaningless trees prodding outward,
From the further bank.
I sit beside a ruined stairway,
Sunk under the creepers;
While the gurgles of the hungry tide,
Suprises and bores coldly.

I look again.
While my mind wades,
Through dismal dreams;
I see,
The outlying wrinkles on the flow;
Adding that blissful chord(to that afternoon).
The child-innocent,
Prods for consideration.

Its unexplainable,
But the amount of warmth it gives;
Of some lost brother dying to converse,
In its helpless slumber and flow.

It is unknown why,
When i am secluded;
The river grows into me.
Reminds me,
The meaninglessness of life;
Yet, body feels so dear.

The breeze assists me to discern,
The greater mark of voidness,
Enclosed within me.
It enters through my pierced body,
Reaches at parts;
Where i am not a creature,
Yet a wisp of dust;
Floating on the mysteries of creation.

They say that the brook doesnt have a memory.
I heed not to think.
The coziness and the remeniscences,
That it gave;
Cant be washed away.
The blind utterences,
The deaf visions;
Cant be grazed.
The mark i'll always bear.

Having stayed long,
To see the sun kiss it.
I turn back,
Preparing to repeat my steps.
Saying farewell to the essence,
And convene with the; Ramparts of the city life.
All does end.

I take some water beads in my hands,
They willingly flow away.