Trifled Times Find a Sled to Flight

While I have found in the withered stone

a lasting voice that have spoken in length

about the storms of the self,

I have acceded to the heart a broken rhythm

one that sweeps in a moment the frosted fury,

and I can bag a burden back to its query.


No trouble to rear in my lulled mind

when I have found feats undying in the heart of mine

where I put to rest and wreaths can find peace confined.

In questions inclined to offer about

doldrums dream of sailors, hung off the hull,

a chance to inquire into the stillness of the sea.


Culled into a niche, a breath born out of thirst

reads away the clouds called upon in search,

of the stories of the ships who send their wish

of the time they dream in the stalled lives

of their families left behind

and the vacancy they seam into their long eyes.


I can rub my hopes against the vision

to deliver unto them a song they can comfort

and together one day maybe we can rhyme

a picture present to the coming times

to hall the voices that commence to ruin

the strange stills one sees in minds.


© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017

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