The Falling Star and The Winged Dreamer

By V. Ganesh

Take to heart, take these words of a falling star.

You praise yourself for fooling yourself

Every night before you close your eyes,

For a satisfactory sleep, a deserved rest you awaited the whole day.

Write honest words on the abandoned pages,

The pages you left, from the sacred book of your soul.

Don’t be afraid to see yourself naked.

Observe you as you observe me

With wonder, with a fear to blink.

It will speak to you,

Like this falling star speaking to you,

Like this falling star

Who has no time for false words.

Take to heart, take this tale of a tiny bird,

Whose story begins with whispers heard,

Whispers of wings, a yearning to fulfil,

Her desire to reach me with fluttering skill.

She tried, not once, not twice, but countless times,

Through endless days and sleepless nights

With sweat and scars

Dreaming the Impossible, her efforts made it possible.

As time brings the tides, brings famine to the tiny bird’s life.

Winged dreamer’s hunger for passion

Transforms into Hunger for sustenance.

She searches for food, here and there

There and everywhere.

Even in stormy wave, leads to

The mysterious cave.

Where she discovered miraculous drops.

Thick as starch, pure as mirror.

But scarce, only a few drops a night.

She drinks it and sleeps in the cave.

Far away from the storm’s restless roar,

In the cave of eternal sustenance,

The bird doing nothing but drinks the liquid,

Continuing its aging life in quiet solitude.

The cycle goes on until the bird came out,

To see the end of storm,

Outside the storm ends, inside deep in her heart

her buried dream erupts with burning pain,

urging her to try once more.

It flew, but barely a few inches into the air

No strength to soar, no strength to seek food.

With empty cold ice stomach and heart burning like a volcanos

It returns to the cave, waiting for the night.

Night returns, drops of water can moisten its throat.

Looking at those drops, at the reflection of her useless body

the weak bird asks

“Is it enough for me to sleep?” “no”, “never”

Shouting hard, waking demons.

The bird never slept till the dissatisfied death.

Left a flaming scar on this falling star,

who is weeping Still this day.

ends this story with a wish,

you must fulfil for this star,

a weeping star, to cease my tears forevermore?

To cease my tears forevermore?

By V. Ganesh