"Resting on the shelf"

Poem | Maairah

Photo by Sugandha Agnihotri

Words once came easy,

Filled the pages, unshaken,

Now carried away by the winds of flame,

Like the forgotten dust of a window wiped clean.

The words aren’t lost,

Just resting, waiting for their cost.

Days go by and the silence grows,

The blank banks turn purple now,

Gasping for ink, trapped within

Its lost rhythm.

Sometimes, you see, my dear,

The rhythm needs some silence to appear.

There’s a constant dreamy loop,

Looking for the dawn to sleep again,

Searching the real mess

Within hushed, silent thoughts.

Realness lies within the hushed lies,

It is the silence that will break all ties.

It is hard to shake the feeling of missing,

A part of the self left behind,

Forgotten in the rush of time;

Unreachable yet reachable.

What's yours will reach you soon,

Waiting to be seen, hiding behind that moon.

Waiting.

But it feels like a strange meet,

Lost for the good,

Pages feel foreign, everything unfit.

Nothing is lost for the good,

Look within, it's just the way it should!