Electrocuted River
Light falls upon the river’s body from the blindness of wakeful constellations. Look no longer at this invisible presence. I have borne the laughter of ancient sin within the eternal scars of the stars. Waves roll in from the solitude of the far distance. How much of this stifled sigh belongs to you?
I stand amidst the performance of your bloodstream, just a tear’s length away. Does a shadow fall upon water that has absorbed the color of stars? Do you find solace in this reflected cluster of light?
Why do you seek news of a cure for an illness that never heals? **Crystal-Clear Waters**
A current that has traversed fire is widening the distance. Beyond a pristine glass wall, it is as if someone has cast a vague death along a path of echoing resonance. Amidst this waking greyness, countless unfinished layers of water silently pass through the fire. Deep below the freezing point of the body, you hold fast to this ritual of bathing in distance—immersed in the blood of memory.
We are losing ourselves in this play of light that precedes the scene itself. I wander past the sound of your absence—through desolate archaeological sites, tombs, and the grey *Baishakh* of the forest. With your untouched fingers, I silence the crimson lips of the mountain spring.
Deep within the limits of endurance, all these colors are eroding into a state of fulfillment. Is there no longing in these waters more intense than silence itself?
Anklet-Bells or the River of Fire
On one side lies a river devoid of grievance; on the other, a single line of fire stretching from flower to stalk. Bubbles formed by the sound of combustion no longer wish to move forward. Burning myself into ever-greater indistinctness, I consume the silences of this stellar melancholy.
Before the slumbering dialogue of tears could conclude, my world was thrown into disarray by the cascade of your blood. Only fingers of light have surfaced upon the water. The malady of the clamorous wind has not abated. Into the deafness of a dying self, the sound of an eternal night’s anklet-bells has intruded.
I remain awake, defined by the identity of your lingering dreams. Bit by bit, the path is forgetting how to weep, moving away from the light where colors fracture and dissolve. What if the journey along this path does not end here?
