Within the twisted lanes of insanity, there exist such wide and glorious fields of understanding and clarity, which are but a product of a resounding confusion clouding the eyes, shattering the peace of the mind, almost killing normalcy. Almost.

You feel most alive when you are nearest to death. Similarly, you are most sane when you are close to insanity.

tilting sideways
the glorious fields of gold-
like his mind

I remember standing close to a mustard field, inhaling pollen and exhaling my last attempt at keeping myself sane. I had this desire to fish. To capture a fish from somewhere in that river of yellow and gold. The sun burnt my left cheek and I kept on waiting for someone to bring me a fishing rod.

No one ever came. I am still waiting. In some alternative world. I know that I am still waiting there after these four long years. Because I still want that fish in this world. I lost everything because I never captured that fish. And thus, things can never be right.

I caress the burnt mark on my left cheek.

calm of mustard fields before
the onslaught of frost

Within the twisted lanes of insanity, I exist. I am a smiling figure atop that beautiful building you see from afar and you miss out on the spectacle as your line of sight changes. You miss out on the spectacle of how that smiling figure takes a leap from that beautiful building, burdening the air with all his weight.

You do feel that weight with every breath you take.

small buds protrude
out of the damp, heavy soil-
the cold wind picks up speed


taking in a whiff
of the remnants of warmth-
I feel cold in my bones


Inspired from Bjorn’s Haibun Monday prompt at dVerse. I have molded it in my own way.
This is Poem # 2 for my goal/challenge to write and post a poem every day of this month. The painting depicts the wide, sprawling fields of wheat, but somehow, the yellow/gold reminded me of a mustard field sparkling in the winter sunshine.
Image source: View of the Church of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole by Vincent van Gogh.


3 thoughts on “Repository

  1. Some want the fishes, I think, because we are taught that we crawled out from the Oceans, we are above. But some of us are, to say it perfectly, “doomed” to chase for the sky, with people around us not realising we do not want to crawl back, but instead, fly up.
    Your future is and always will be: yours. It is a sad truth sometimes, but it is like that. The chains it seems to put on your legs, the responsibility, I think, slowly fades when you accept and admit that you can change it, that your heart is what is hungry and needs to be full, not just your head (or wallet). Sounds so shit what I am saying, in this damn 21st century. I wish everything was just like the fields in the painting you shared 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • I wish that too.
      It’s the travesty of our times that we all are leashed by someone or something and that has become our mode of survival.
      Can we ever break these shackles?

      I long for cleaner days and cleaner skies, of life and love which are not besotted with the artifice of our existence.


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