Indigo

[Querida]

and there it seems
the story had ended...

my omniscient presence,
my layered foreshadowing,
my myriad collage of
depthful symbols,
all could not control...

i subtly alluded!

i silently forewarned!

i scripted wayward tangents...

i kept what i wanted caught
in the surging streams
of the untamed consciousness

the scenes i downplayed
and the reams of dialog omitted
the lines i crossed out
and the pages ripped out

the unreliable narrator
i unwillingly became...

with nowhere else to go
i lived their story
with the ending
i never wanted to be true
and yet knew
it could be no other way...

and so i wrote...
i let them live
i let them fall
i let them bleed
i let them betray...

i let them question
i let them discover
i let them find their own way...

[pavalamani pragasam]

Confessions?!

[Querida]

Pavalamani Maam,

I tried to write from an author's view and the tools she could use in her craft
but finding that she is unable to alter the life of a story that had to be told.

[pavalamani pragasam]

[Querida]

Einmal ist Keinmal

for that one instance
we wait our whole
waking life
search for it in the depths of our subconscious
evaluating each novel experience
for the one happening that is all-expected
yet story-worthy...a myth in the making...

shelving what we curtail as mediocre
coalescing to this cushion of routine
in hopes that for once
with fragile awe
in astounded silence
we will humbly embrace
what has been dealt to us
to relive
what was alive for us
but once...

afraid that the moment
will leave without
impression...

a breath surges through
asking us to wait once again
to remember it's possible
to keep alert
but not expect

to keep awake
yet not blind to the
calling of the world
to return..

Einmal ist Einmal

German
*once is never
**once is once again

[Querida]

nothing to make you believe
that given the chance
things would not be any other way...

that come what may
the same distant words
would be re-spoken
cold and clear

why is pain is never absolved?
why does it instead become absorbed?

biding its time

it rages unleashed...

[pavalamani pragasam]

Metaphysical truths!

[Querida]

Restless
no longer the same as the others
one violety-veined among the whispering ochers
it awaits to be pulled away
to swirl, sway and lazily unfurl
to run away with the wind...

to play in its bullying gusts
and shiver in its breezy quick embraces
to flutter gently to and away from air-grasping hands

eager to gleam in the rain
that whispers of its iciness
to imprint its hued outline
onto the dulled sidewalks

to finally become crisp and brittle
raked and bagged away
and manage a quick flight escape
and join its muddied brothers
and trodden upon sisters
peering above at their bare
and skeletal mother.

[Querida]

why pluck a rose
to only knowingly pierce
one's finger?

to only redden
what is already red

it is only you who bleeds...

what the rose cannot understand

what it cannot ask aloud

is in the pain
you seek
again
again
again
with the hope
of finally
feeling blind bliss.

[Querida]

your subtle moves and tactful twists
your dulled instruments
all do so much harm...

do not let me come to my own conclusions.
i dread the moment where it all connects.
where i see your master plan.
where a pawn is given what she has asked.
and gained the insight to see the reality
of her words.

it is after all, a mere mortal's mumblings.
an ignorant impatience at fulfilling a promised good plan.
a rushed careening into believing all will be dealt.
by One who is more than all the ones that are, will be and have once been.