Filling in the Blanks- a Daydreamer’s Delirium
Sometimes, not so often, but regularly yet
The colors disappear.
On rain-soaked evenings or cloudy noons
My story-telling mind lets me down.
And all my selves that never were-
All those colorful powerful happening selves
I gave myself cease to excite me.
The bleakness makes her presence felt
Like the constant dripping sound of water
Running down an overworked tap.
I grope around in the blank grayness
To regain my lost fantasies.
Am I insane or ill?
Why can’t I live as I am?
I fear me sometimes- I fear my dreams.
And I fear the illusory happiness I run after,
My idle imaginations-if they engulf me
Or worse: melt away when the future comes-
The future of all the extra-ordinary happenings
Which I have kept at bay over the years,
When it at last arrives and the dreams shatter,
Will I be able to live and love?
When I finally out-grow my wishful fairy-tales
Will I be able to fill in the blanks?P.S: The accompanying picture is a landscape painting by Tim Postell