Silent Lane

The madrone hills slowly fade,
And merge with the glimmering dusk—
The sky glows: a burning façade
Of hope, rest, the evening dust…

The lane slowly narrows and bends
Towards my destination tonight:
One star in the velvet sky tends
To guide me with its macabre light.

I walk along slowly, steadily
On this eerie, grassless path;
Nightjars, owls, croon throatily;
Forcing upon me, their nocturnal wrath.

Antediluvian creepers are laced
Around wrought-iron gates,
I halt; I stand and peer at glazed
Long-forgotten, splintered name-plates.

As I move, dusty footprints
Get erased, the lane becomes pristine—
The solitary electric pole glints
In the still light of the celestial line.

A distant light attracts me,
The fractured noise of silence
Goes unnoticed; I unconsciously see
Lush, invigorated nonsense.

A world of good and bad,
A motivated realm of winners—
Some sumptuous enjoyments to be had,
And a few desultory, hollow pleasures.

I walk on, hope springs up willingly—
The night rains with broken despair,
‘…Leaves the world to darkness and to me’…
…There is a balmy chill in the air.

The light dims, my destination is near,
Not caring to notice time slipping by
I slow down, sit on the bench where
In the silence I spot a vermillion sky.

-Shubhodeep Pal