a semblance of sanity

Ouroboros by Erika Ranee

unbound,
a fanged sun appears in the sky,
spewing light that digs into the skin,
forming crevices of an uninhibited tomorrow.

it’s an initiation, a baptism from the past
as little kid fingers hold you apart
from the lethal essence of your own myth.

I bite my own tail, unbound, I see faith
in spontaneity raveling from its burrow,
I hear the rustle of the grass beneath my feet.

hunched back, I stand for the venomous kiss,
light draws caricatures on my face,
waiting, I stand, hunched back

for all that comes when the blood freezes over,
and the lips turn blue,

I beget death so that I can live.
I beget chaos so that life fulfills.

unbound,
the fanged sun pierces the scales
of my existence.

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Linking it up with With Real Toads.
The legends of America describe the snake totem with following terms: “Impulsive, primal energy, shrewdness, rebirth, transformation, initiation, and wisdom”.

I made a post today particularly because of this :

Nowadays

The daily routine comes along and sometimes, it takes away all those things from you that you cherish and treasure beyond anything else. This blog has been my friend since the last three years. I recently had my 3rd anniversary on WordPress. And today, I find it so difficult to share some words here. There has been a slight shift in the activities that I indulge in to keep this life going.

I have started my college life now. And my entire day is spent there, from 9 to 5. After that, there is nothing much left to do. I eat. I read a few articles online. I watch some TV. I research for college work. I sleep. Another day begins and the routine shadows me once again. I have ached for this routine during some of the hardest days in the last couple of years and now when I have found it, I am rather disturbed and a little perturbed by its presence. May be it is because this routine has left so little of time that I could spend with myself. I think I had become quite habitual to entire days which I lived in company of no one but that of my own. The solitude had become a part of me, inseparable from me, that now I search for it here and there.

I am studying Hotel Management. I joined this course, thinking that it would make me active and practical, garnering skills necessary for this service industry. I won’t go in detail but I don’t feel the same anymore. Though I still find some subjects interesting, like the Front office operations and Food Production. The work has been rather theoretical by now but I know that it will change with time.

Such things are trivial. But the major concern is the gruesome result of these bursts of active participation in these days, I am not writing. I haven’t written a complete poem since long. Some fragments do tear themselves away from me at certain stances and that is all. I want to grieve for this loss that I am experiencing. But I am not feeling anything at all.

I am just another body, unconsciously counting the seconds. I am a soul, who can’t be satisfied. I am the flesh that is just meant for the physical domain. I am a heart writhing and singing, unheard. My pulse continues. I am alive. I breathe. I look at the snapshot of a day at a time. The past is erasing some of its own lines. The future is out of my reach. The present is me. I flow with the tides of time.

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