Restlessness clings to the air
It blows far and wide,
Soul searching through the depth of stars
That glint past their eventide
The wind picks, strays, soars
Gently ebbs, gently flows
And the heart thumps a minute a mile,
Yet it is time that stops
Slows and steadies, to stand and stare awhile
The promises of a fickle mind
Five-minute fame that would not rewind
A corruption that unwittingly creeps
Excuses that ooze and gape and weep
They clothe whispers borne of prejudice
With sunsets that judgment did not miss
And with a kiss of nightmare on sleep’s brow
From the hangman stood bloodied but unbowed
A garden, unfettered, sows and grows
The guilt that gnarls a crow’s crow,
There the callouses of weary souls
Have long since culled care’s hold
But when the illusion shatters solitude
And pieces of sanity unhinge and elude
Then care takes roots anew, again
Upon each ponderous now and then
– Akanksha Gupta
The Pluming PoeTree 