A Forest

Its not a sanctuary that I want,
a forest it is that I desire.
Not the manicured lawns
and the trimmed hedges.
But the growth that is wild,
a form of limitless forms.

Roots that spill over from the sidewalk
and break the monotony of direction.
Yes, a living, breathing forest in my city
that chokes the roads;
breaking their will to go anywhere
to let live the paths that go nowhere.
Those strangler figs,
that have a foothold in the sacred spaces of life
the roots that hang from high rises
threatening to strangle the living room.
The leaves, ominously closer to the sunlight,
than the windows that feign the delight.

This murderous nightsky,
this perennial scavenger of stars,
this inverted cityscape,
deviant reflection of our mind,
illuminated but devoid of any light.
In here shall a forest take root
snubbing the citylights,
letting the darkness prevail
and the stars shine bright.

Comments

Marco Polo said…
so is that we shud fear beauty?
April 2, 2012 at 1:04 AM
Morpheus said…
oh its the name of the blog and has nothing to do with the poems. the phrase was taken from a poem of Rainer Maria Rilke
April 2, 2012 at 3:19 AM
Bindu Rekha Babu said…
Wow Doctor, good one. I really like it.
April 3, 2012 at 10:01 PM
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