Monday, February 09, 2009

Gibberish - iii

It’s dark and silent out here. A run-down wheel and a broken lantern, placed in front of a wall, a billboard, with half a smile of the shiny whites, a muffled cough and then a sudden cry – or maybe a gasp. Everything is so empty. Whispers, maybe, but no buses or trucks.

It’s dark and silent and empty. Your hands hold on to you, give you comfort. You examine your pain and provide solace. You wipe your own tears and smile at the nothingness. There’s no one else out there. You hold out your hands, close your eyes, and try to touch warmth, skin, life. There’s no one out there. It’s dark and silent and empty and dark and cold. Whispers, maybe, but no buses or trucks or traffic policemen or the usual shrills of a watchman’s whistle.

You hold your heart and examine your pain and then smile out into the nothingness.


Anonymous said...

some talk to themselves, some talk to their beloved, some talk to the creator of universe, some talk to the God in himself/herself.

who do you talk to?

Elita Karim said...

all of the above.

Anonymous said...

Well said :)
Next time, when you are going to that dark, silent, lonely place again, take a torch, mp3 player and a note book with you.... One joyous song from a broken heart may uplift many others. :)

Elita Karim said...

lol! yup, a torch and an mp3 player will actually save the day (night in this case). thanks a lot mr anonymous.

Anonymous said...

u r welcome (with your new poetry; I should rather say philosophy :) )

UnQuEsTeD said...

I love silence, I love darness but dont love the cold, dont love to walk everyday at 4am in the morning while shaking to cold, dont love the cold wind that takes away my hoodie everytime, i love the cold days in summer, i love the warm winter noons, i love the way snows fall but hate the way it makes my fingers blue.