Pilgrims of the Lost World

not a matter of survival, but of living,

as he sat looking at the window,

not at the scenes unwinding outside,

but the wooden slabs rotting away,

termites crawling, eating away,

consuming strength, leaving behind

just a hollow piece, ready to fall apart,

.

he rubbed his eyes swollen, and beet red,

not willing to go to sleep, for another round

of those nasty, nefarious nightmares,

when someone knocked, and sought his attention,

a stray pigeon, pecking at the dusty glass,

watching curiously, as if searching for

an unfound truth on the surface or within,

 .

he moved, his limbs trembling,

he caressed the image from the inside,

meeting a life, rejoicing in this meeting,

the two pilgrims of the lost world,

(but in different situations- free, trapped),

but every moment ends, as that one too,

.

the bludgeoning bird took a flight,

leaving him looking at the widening wings,

and longing to clutch the callous claws,

grabbing a way, to journey through life

.

* I haven’t edited it. I am being quite lazy. It is written in consideration of CSB Weekly Prompt Angst and Longing. Also sharing with dVerse OLN.

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30 thoughts on “Pilgrims of the Lost World

  1. the wooden slabs rotting away,

    termites crawling, eating away,

    consuming strength, leaving behind

    just a hollow piece, ready to fall apart,

    =================================================

    That line from your words spoke to me in every possible way.
    Emptiness, loneliness, and everything broken.
    Every part of our humanity is nothing and watching everything being decayed and turn into ashes.

    You have such a damn! gifted vision for describing on what people are feeling. I love this poem a lot! 🙂

    Like

  2. Wow, the two pilgrims of the lost world…one free and one trapped….You really developed quite a scene here which made me think about what life is all about. Is it to be observed, or is it to be lived? THAT is the question.

    Like

  3. nice..i really like the brief relationship here between them…i think each of them can see a bit of themselves in the other….me i would want the wings if for just a bit to kiss the wind….

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  4. A scene quite often enacted. One can get a feel of loneliness seeing things that pass us by. One do feel like wanting to go fly off to escape! Very effectively rendered HA!

    Hank

    Like

  5. Someone who lives too much on the inside and has lost the ability to connect with the outside… a sad story, I can feel the jangle of the nerves, and what a great picture find to illustrate it.

    Like

  6. Literally speaking after living with termites in a much older home at an earlier point in life…there is great despair in watching termite eaten wood..as you know there is no repair possible…

    And I too find myself in this metaphorical place in life…where the termites had eaten the wood of my soul…to fragmented rotten fibers..if one wills..

    WAit..small digression here..if one wills has become a habit talking to Autistic People like me who don’t ‘normally’ have a grasp of metaphor..in case that sounded a little strange…if you will..

    But..back on topic..I had to stop believing in termites..to remain alive..even living through tiny fragments of eaten wood….

    My home is brick now or solid as a rock..yes that home of soul..no longer ravaged by termite teeth….

    Like

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