Keeper of Tales

Copyright Fine Art America

I don’t know how long I’m allowed to wander 

in the wilderness of mind full of complex contradictions, restless fantasies and fairy tales

Brimming with lush green creepers of convictions all tangled and trackless,

Lingo as straight as cedars and cypresses,

Self mirroring streams of subtle sensibilities

Eternal sunshines and moonlit nights in the woods waiting for soft footsteps

That walk and talk while telling brand new tales

You and me and the man walking over there,

All are kindly welcomed to experience the enchanting love of the keeper..

But remember,these moments could last only for a minute,or an hour ! Perhaps a day.. ! 

But why does it matter after all ?

As long as the fables flow and in due course scatter.

For I’m well aware,Forevers in the realms of intimacies are rare.

But why should I care ?

Being part of someone or something even for a little while is rare

I cease to search for feckless answers..Learnt to listen to the unspoken words..

Embracing uncertainties and tenderness of mere silences

In the wilderness where ‘‘perhaps’ and ‘may be’ sounds more palpable than any stern certitudes

I’m thriving through the moments of wild fascinations of heart

In the end it is all that matters to me.

For those are the moments I feel I’m really alive.