Nebulous

By Devadri Bhattacharya

The fog makes it harder for each of us to see

Its scent is bleak, rather absorbing.

While most of us are captivated by its mysteriousness,

Few try to break free by sniffing their own scent,

Believing it would make them strong,

Believing it would make them unique,

And that they’d never again be wrong

You look around yourself to find familiar faces in the haze,

It does not occur to you that they’re no more the same.

The hands of the mist pull out the masks,

The masks that once comforted you,

The masks the once laughed with you,

The masks that forsook you.

And you wonder if you were wearing one yourself

The aberrations of nature never seem to cease,

For the skies above the fog do as they please,

Changing faces from a bright one to a grey,

Like the ones down below if I may say.

Sunny winter, cloudy summer, droughty monsoon?

Bright rays of rain falling with grace

Pity it didn’t kiss your face

Watch your step; don’t tread on the lifeless black body

For it possesses a soul,

Now confronted by the sullen old street lamp

The begetter of your apathetic friend,

The cripple whom life couldn’t mend

Whose dim light falls on the street it can’t walk on

The one which you must continue, your erratic journey

By Devadri Bhattacharya