"Beauty is truth,
truth beauty,
that is all Ye know on Earth,
that is all Ye need to know..." - John Keats


Saturday, 4 December 2010

Tarmac of the Soul...

On this tarmac, it touched down…
Yes, I didn’t expect it either,
Funnily enough it was a foggy day…
With all the faculties asleep or inert,
The vague light bottled up the midnight’s flight…

On this tarmac, this day it has made its journey,
I mean the journey’s end,
For the airplane can’t stay aloof to the runway for long…
Suddenly those engines were heard,
Unaware the meaningless jeeps below
crossed the perceived desolate tar roll…

And now, in the failing light,
Fog and few make up this fight,
Where coldness takes over the evasive night,
And amidst all the thoughts and trepidations of the heart,
Amidst all the impediments of the mind,
The winged angel from God’s own land,
The pondering beauty of the spirited hand,
That silent mistress, for me, who hangs on this pole,
Has touched down upon the tarmac of the soul…

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

1 comment:

AnAestheticBard said...

The spirit is yearning, imploring a fantastic hanging around for the ‘flight’ to touch terrains of your soul. There is a hint of an oblique impatience amid hope, darkness to receive light….the winged angel has touched down though (is still taxiing through the fog..I mischievously sense at the end:)).The trappings of your mind always incline to the shades of pathos, ultimately falling into a positive finale of realization. This did invoke many images of life’s airfields..:)