Limbo

January 26, 2017 by Usha Pisharody 2 Comments

Suns burn with the
Irony of a knowledge
That blinds.
Light. So much light.
But never enough
To chase the shadows.
Yet, always too
Much to let
The Shadows be.

Times when I need
The Shadows
I’m blinded.

Else, it’s the eclipse
Where I exist.
(Cease.)

Hither and thither
Emotions scuttle
Like roaches fleeing light;
Or perish,
Moth to flame.

So, each night,
I flood my room
With light.

For only then
Can I be lost.

Or found.

21 December, 2016

Sigh.