Revelation

When the sun fell on my bed I was in love with my dreams.

I knew, like any other day, I would have to stop.

Be under the influence of the alcoholic sun,

would have to forget I was struggling with dark words

showing faces, calling names; they suddenly fainted, vanished

blue horrors became fake, like the y2k,

everything seemed okay, sky didn’t fall, though I imagined

the sun to fall like a shooting star, on this earth, to change things

I got up, ran into the day, met people, walked my brown steps

wrote and talked about meadows and sparrows

ignoring, overlooking many stories of oppression, hatred, deceit

the rays have an effect; until evening, moon rose like a white flower

in the dark, everything’s so clear, I walked into my bed like a somnambulist

dead with words; my insomniac eyes waited for the fresh sun

in the middle of many nights, for the hope-drops, to discover on grasses…
simple, unmasked, eureka of Archimedes; wake up from this waking state,

purely mine, no sunny impact, drowsy eyes,

to read the same stories of treacheries, another unfulfilled journey

sleeping on the other side to be over-written; but now, huh ‘now’

this state of sleepy sleeplessness walking over me; several nights, like waves

waking up, sleeping are being in the blue; sea and ocean;

with the moon, there’s a longing to be gone

see a shooting star, imagine it as the falling sun

all sins of the world, refusing to wake up, will burn.

Selected for the Amaravati Poetic Prism Anthology 2017