Picnic Of The Soul [POEM]

A path of self-discovery and self-realization, on a quest to find his soul, Dharmesh writes about….

Fruitcakes and milkshakes,

On evenings by the lakes,

A cup of tea, some lemonade,

Soon you’ll find me dead.

I am not you, nor meant to be.

I am your ghost lingering to see

All you’ve done, all you’ll do.

I won’t come out of closet to say, ‘Boo!’

I have seen your face behind the smile,

The odour behind enchanting perfumes.

I have known meanings of your words senile

And meaningful, what every fool only assumes.

I am you, just a step back.

Your reaction to every thought,

Your doing of abilities you lack,

Real beggar after all you’ve bought.

Oh! I know you perhaps too well,

You keep me shut behind glistening eyes.

I leak sometimes when words don’t sell.

Some truth in you every night dies.

I try to speak in bustling crowds,

It’s hard for you to hear me out.

As the voices drown you in their shrouds

I die underneath suffering from gout.

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