REACHING OUT INTO NOTHINGNESS

Say it again, the simple words  
won't denote meaning to such banal  
meaninglessness, as we know,  
the precious waiting is a dignified  
entity, the backside of your temperamental  
visiting card.  

Bones have this funny habit,they have to  
shed flesh, water down the blood and  
have to embrace dust to become dust.  
Inevitably our knowledge regarding  
despair does never flower into  
protected relationship and, it is really funny, that  
relationship is like fossilized bone,  
once intact, now seemingly meaningless dust  
even nostrils failing to acknowledge.  

One's own silence pesters wayward motives  
to branch out and emote in a  
stabilised world of unfamiliar shadows.  
Say it again, the familiar human touch  
can be so monotonous that one will  
prefer to stay back, at least knowing that  
shadows are after all shadows,if  
once can get hurt by absent images,  
then knowledge have not reached yet  
regarding what harms these harmless  
shadows can bring upon.  


Translation :
The poet