Gift of Innocence

The invisible foliage of sound grows up,
Membrane of time is stretched to dry,
Flattened by cosmos
And etched by a passionate sun-
I am walking ahead.

I am reaching for what I left,
What left me lonesome,
Frozen in memory mansions,
At the edge of the cliff,
On the ceiling over the empty space.

I anticipate fusion of the faces
As the sun emerges from its bed of broken bones,
And the air turns everything void,
Void that strangles broken words.

The moment doesn't peep from my feet.
Shouldn't it burst in my skull in a silent explosion.

Copyright? 2004, 2005 Debashish Haar, All Rights Reserved