The night is young
The stakes are low
I hear a voice very far
And it’s all low
The night comes everyday
And in its sweetest of voices
Touches me deep in its careless whisper
The whisper that I hear everyday
The whisper that I hear everyday
As if I am connected to it in some way
Hard to let go of things
That you were once a part everyday
Far in the meadows the animals graze
The silent touch of the nature blessing us all through the
way
The warmth and the care the mother shows for her child
The priest blessing the passers-by in all awe and style
Still the careless whisper remains deep within the frame
Asking me a question that I have always kept at bay
The light will shine upon all of us one day
The careless whisper giving me the strength to sway away
The rising sun brings with it the promise
Of millions of hope into the foray
The boys seem busy with their play all through the day
And that gentle breeze giving them the joy
Far across the meadows the faint picture giving me the gaze
It’s as if the whisper hinting me the way
I am almost there, to just feel the connect
And I will be on my way
The careless whisper
Accompanying me till the very end
Fading away slowly
Into the day...
Your theme appears to be so abstract yet I could relate to it. Nice writing.
ReplyDeleteHey,thanks for letting me know that it reached u :)
DeleteYes,my writings are just a mirror of myself,all over the place may be,possibly because I'm confused,scattered and disoriented since long.
But,hey,I love the way it is and importantly,it helps me let loose and pen down something,the only way I bring relief to myself.
Thanks again for stopping by and comment,request you to stay in touch and yes,do visit regularly,as I'll keep writing.
Cheers.
Like I said I would need time and silence to decipher it in whatever little way I could understand it.
ReplyDeleteThe starting para gives a Samaritan helpful outlook of the voice. And then as we transgress further into the poem, the voice appears to be the long lost guilt that never went away. It seems dangerous now.
Sombre and dangerous.
The post attempt successfully to give a tour of the things happening around by shifting the mood to Mothers and Saints.
Delving deep into it, the voice comes back as the whisper in its real sense.
And then the unthinkable happens - the post throws two extreme shades on the ''whisper'' intentions' which are poles apart.
Is the whisper gonna save the protagonist or is it going to lure it away into oblivion and fade away?
Stuck, eyes wide open and amazed!
I am bookmarking this.Period.
Thanks for the words Pru. Your point of view always gives things a whole new dimension. I am literally amazed by your words. And yes at times the silent voices that keep telling us things are poles apart than the things we really want. And in some form or the other "The careless whisper" does accompany us right through the silhouette of the nothingness !!
DeleteThanks buddy. Keep coming back. And yeah tx for the bookmark. :)