Thread Tale

'It's the real world, full of gaps and inconsistencies and anticlimaxes.' ~Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
Thread Tale
By: Akhilesh Agarwal

It was her world, the one she was knitting
With threads and needles
Spectacles and seasons
It was made of red and blue threads
Surrounding the yellow at the core
It was knitted in a perfect ball
Not like flattened imperfection of this world

You see, it was her world, the one she was knitting
And it was made of fingers and nails
That had touched them at all places
She knit them all day and night
She knit them close, she knit them tight
She hummed a tune that reminded the threads
It was life giving life, so not to fear otherwise.

It was her world, the one she was knitting
That she bounced around the room, to and fro
She didn’t hate the world, the one she was breathing
Because at least it never left a thread behind on the floor.

Gravity

Everybody needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else. ~Richard Siken
Gravity
By: Akhilesh Agarwal

The whole world has fallen asleep
Like a tired sack dissolving in ground’s feet
The dogs have hung up their coats
And stopped barking for silence to come home
The ocean rests its tired arms
Under the glow of moonlight that has to go
But I stay up reading the letters I wrote
To you, who has gone beyond a postal code.

I have found my gravity in memories
Embodiment of nostalgia, or is it something more?
Should I move ahead to the void that stretches far beneath
Or fall back to the cushion of a time that hollows back ago?
I do not know.

I could ask you, send you danger flares of red
Does heaven provide a benefit of one rescue operation?
Because the problem is that the world has fallen asleep
And I have no ground to dissolve into.

One Can Wonder

I love how life is just one big metaphor and I love those who fight to make it something more than that.

One Can Wonder

By: Akhilesh Agarwal

The path emblazoned green and yellow, trampled and beautiful,

when it rained, it welcomed a king and hid the sun away

It lent a ear to the hollow voice that was full of dull, ache less

musings of a terrible mind, a mind not bound to heart,

a heart that seemed to ever escape and return listless and empty,

the clouds absorbed every single word that came streaming out

but nobody understands the words of a thunder clap.

He wondered if someday he would never reach the destination, and not have the courage to go back,

He wondered if the road continued on, the trees would follow, or will they shed away in the yawning winter,

He wondered if his bones would tire away or will he be stuck in this moment like a photograph

He wondered if that would feel good or bad.