My fake aficionado

    31-Oct-2020
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Pravin Thongam
On the last weekend of Sept;
The time when I sprawled on the grass at the time of dusk,
Saw stars in the sunset sky; Four-five, countables !
A mesmerizing sunset sky on the last Sunday of Sept that was,
No sun in the west yet a magnificent spectrum there was,
Adorning the western sky with a crown of splendidly couloured clouds
Spreading towards the northern hills.

Erupting from my senses -
A desire to peruse the "Countables"
In the splendid and the fleeting sunset  to relish the jaunty twilight.
The endless journey of my mind foments Betwixt my peaceful spot called The Heart.
A deep speculation of the past,
Gone are those weeks with memories of being an intimate of an aspect of 2020
Time flies away making our friendship ephemeral.

The only, only brief rejoinder from "The peaceful spots"
To the countlessly inane questions posed by My Mind -
"With an inaudibly pernicious violence
Like a suffering which swept towards me
Like a beast in violence
You are my catastrophe,
My fake Aficionado!"

Flabbergasted still I am
By your untoward words
We're in corcodance for future
Destroyed by your merciless act of "Dogmatism" it was
Now " A chump" I remain as,
Having possessed
You even didn't bestow the window to peruse my opinion.

"Let bygones be bygones."
Let my betrayed and shattered "Peaceful Spot"
Resembling the form of Dried Foliage
Make me a foliate being!
Not a poem lamenting of my past this is,
But a simple poem betokening

A brighter dawn in the dark nightlong journey
Of one's ailing mind.
Now, twinkling are the stars in its ocean of sky,
One or two drop at times,
One or two drop at times,
Fortuitously, the evening breeze hastens up its speed,
Soothing my ferment and chaotic mind.