The Door is Ajar

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The door is ajar

Whetting my urge

To peep inside, or

To slam it shut for good

And lament for a lifetime.

I can imagine what’s there inside

A fragrance that I’d ever relish

Redolent of many things:

A wild rose atop an unreachable rock,

An incense stick that bookmarks

The passion of an old episode,

A picture postcard that vividly reflects

My muse, igniting my private dreams,

My heart’s image

Reflected on those willing objects

And many things

To make the moment wistful

And to turn my life worth living.

But then I can’t open it either—

The door is only ajar

And I oughtn’t to go that far

From the passive to the active

Pushing the door a little further

Here, in the midst of environs hostile

 Where is honour for the vibes?

With this world so very cruel

And so insanely intrusive

With rules that rule the meek and mild

And those ever-watching eyes wide open

To grab me off guard and red handed.

Vilified I’d be: a plagiarist, a trespasser

The sinful, a transgressor of the first order.

But then again, how can I?

Desist from reaching this nook inviting?

The door is ajar yet

A ray of subdued light

Escapes at this moment unguarded

Wafts across to me aroma the wistful

The lilt of a lonely song meant for me

Now, look yonder

The image of my own adorable muse

Ready to morph into me

A slot is reserved, path carpeted

Everything is inside, the moment inviting.

Thus far...

I have been treating myself

A rank passer-by

Sparing little thought for it

Bringing myself to belief

It’s just another nothing

A bubble is born to burst

Taking its own time

But now...

The door is ajar and the destination clear

What I dream is a part of me.

Here’s a chance to connect to my soul

Aha! A chance of a lifetime

Through this open door

And along this path of dream.

I just can’t be cruel to me.

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By

A. N. Nanda

Teivandrum

20-09-2015

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