by Karishma Sinha
My Death wasn’t too long ago,
Godless, I disintegrated slowly.
The earth swallowed my flesh;
Hungry and rejoicing, nature broke
me down one cell at a time;
Identity, ego all sinking into emptiness
Glimmer of the self like hope,
remained embedded in my atoms,
like an amnesiac, flashes of distant memories.
I rose above ground, green and gorgeous
against a brilliant blue sky.
This was new, life without greed or desire,
life drunk in sunlight and rain.
Life was in seasons now, in the song
of birds fluttering by and the buzz of insects.
Life was the endless cycle of elements
I sensed as they passed through me,
giving me strength and serenity.
Heady with freedom, no longer bound
by chains of sentience.
I was no longer held hostage by love or hate,
no longer in need for pleasure,
or in anticipation of pain,
I blossomed to the rhythms of the planet
as it journeyed and spun at that perfect
distance from its roaring sun.
I grew tall, reaching for the stars,
swaying to the wind, rustling in the night,
bending to the storms and yet remained
rooted in spite of their violence.
Reaching deep into the earth as I soared above.
Evergreen I was finally whole,
finally alive in my silence after life.
by Karishma Sinha
Don’t fear the dark as it beckons, dying embers
of a red sun glowing over a barren land where life
is barely a memory a whisper, a dream, nothing
Whispers of endless forests, lush and green,
of running rivers like the arc of a silver blade,
the cacophony of birds, the flutter
of insects, the hunger of the predators
and the palpating fear of the prey.
Every now and then ruins gleam under a
sickle moon, towering emblems of steel and glass,
nothing more but haunts for the ghost
of a species doomed by ambition and hope,
but this is truth.
Dreams of whale songs and mammoth vessels
sailing into the deep, teeming with fleeting colours
of coral reefs and shoals of fish as they catch currents in
the marine blue. Sun-drenched shores of golden lands
beating to the rhythms of life.
The shores are barren now, cloaked under the waning
light of stars long dead. Pieces of vessels scattered across
the ocean floor that boast of nothing but dirt and
dried up fossils of what once was, eons ego.
Home circling across endless space, defiant, glittering and
beautiful so loved, so revered for its sweet air that breathes
life into glorious forms, allowing imagination to reach
Figments of such imaginings circle the planet, no longer
a rebel to the emptiness of the space it journeys through.
Scattered here and there; debris of innovations mock the
audacity of forgotten explorers who are nothing more than
mere stardust, for this is truth, this is extinction.