Wild Quest

  • If it were not for the incessant
  • hooting of an owl
  • would this night survive
  • the shivers in its bark?
  • The narrow song that breaks a branch
  • leans closer to the ground
  • of beliefs tearing up another
  • moon crescent-ing to life.
  • If it were not for the howl of
  • a wolf baying into hearts
  • that desire just the amber
  • of coals dipped in fire-sighs?
  • The heights of a crescendo
  • culminating into the rustle
  • of leaves buries all the
  • breeze that have never learnt to sleep.
  • If it were not for the gush of
  • a stream lining the arteries
  • of ancient rocks. Could a pebble
  • release itself from the crevices of cries?
  • - Dipalle Parmar

Comments are closed.