My dreams are stretched so far and wide

But the world asks me to cast them aside

To forget the thousand yards that I have walked.

My eyes were young, when I walked blindfold,

The wind in my hair, my feet in the sky,

Rainbows on my shoes and stories in my eyes

I wondered a hundred true questions

And I got a dozen false answers

But they were all pretty and I kept going

Because I thought that’s what I am made for.

I knew what I had taken up

I knew it would tear me apart

I knew it would be worth the wait

But an ageless void in my heart

When the illusion is over,

The magician becomes a beggar

And so was my demeanour

When I came back from the dream

But the flame keeps on burning,

Even when cyclones are churning

It flickers and kindles and burns

In this rage between heart and mind,

I am strangely numb

Till I find what I am supposed to find

In the words of mortal men

It is but a painful world,

Where lunch is never free

And unfair people rule

But do you know where I was born,

In a true and ever-lasting dawn

Beautiful things continue to happen

I pulled up my head

And said to myself,

As I am now, telling  you,

These feet were made for a reason

And they will keep running

Till they find the grass to come back home to.

Swasti is an ex-member of LSD and writing is her one true love. This piece was picked up from one of the yellowed pages of her poem-diary which she treasures till today.


One thought on “Home Turf

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