[It’s crazy how this is the first poem I ever wrote. In 2001. It came to me, fully formed, like this. And some of these lines have been haunting me of late. Crazy.]
Where is He?
And who am I?
Questions go unanswered
As I reach to greet
A disembodied voice
On the wire – floats a friend
Or a stranger – or a creature
From outer space
I know not who or why or what
I am only conscious of the vacuity
As my speech remains brief in its brevity.
You are not who I wanted to call
You are not what I wished to hear
But that is neither there nor here
For who cares for what I want?
Certainly not I.
Nor do those mates of yesteryears
Who are busy loving, hoping, living
Conquering their fears.
I stumble upon the truth sometimes
That we are alone and meant to be
Sacrificed at the altar of responsibilities.
We owe you one and he another
And to them – all the rest.
What is then left for you and me
If not memories of the dust?
They too are fragile and flippant
Nothing in them to cause you repent.
I breathe the air and so do you
And isn’t that all we are meant to do?
I lost what I most cherished
And now even those dreams must perish
Tarnished by mockery and defeat
How oft those lines can I repeat?
Where are you?
That hardly matters
You chose your path
And so forced mine
If it be hollow what of it?
If it be a farce then so be it.
I have nothing left in me
Maybe there never was.
Shrivelled, dry, and dead.
And that’s not only my thoughts.
Who am I?
Now is it different than the then?
Questions arise and go unanswered
Only science books have
What happens when.
I smile at my own lack of humour,
My weary thoughts and addled brain
If only I could rhyme saying train.
The conversation ends
Then another and yet again
Murmured responses, meaningless replies
And only a wire carries them all.
I seek; I seek for what is lost
Knowing it is all for naught.
In the meantime,
The silence shatters
The thread of thoughts goes broken again
And I answer to the voice again