vanity. the thought

that knocked every time. romance

seldom held the dock.

childhood scurried past

with morsels of self-consciousness

biting from the future.

and the future? a dark mass of

self-doubt squirming into a mudstone

rolling and rolling

across the years, mustering fears

turning vain. vanity.

 

suffering. the feeling

always left behind. incessant rains,

paper cuts, plain pain.

acute absences unfurl

tripping down the consciousness

digging seas in nether space.

worlds where windows wouldn’t

open to skies but dark abysses

dimming and dimming

through seasons, failing reasons

into a pyrrhic pit. suffering.

 

Shakuntala, he asked me to wait

like you waited

for Dushyant*. Were there any

Annas, Catherines, Isabels

Bathshebas or Bovarys**

to remind you of yourself?

of vanities and sufferings?

are you lost?

you must have been innocent

I am not; neither there is a ring

to behold nor any promise.

 

vanity now sings a sad song

suffering seeks a star.  

 

* Shakuntala and Dushyant are characters from Indian epic Mahabharata.

** Characters from classical literature across the world.