*In My Room

This is my Room.

This is where I behold 

death in all its detail:

when spiders dangling from the cobwebs

suck life out of tiny moths

The faded wings

lying in dust

 mementoes of their last strife.

This is where I hear

silence breaking in to pieces:

when rain falls 

at midnight.

An orchestra in the beginning

And then an avalanche

Engulfing me 

Through the open window.

This is where I discover

the meaning of loneliness:

when from a sleep of unending nightmares

I wake up,panting

find no one to hold hands with

but darkness.

This is where I realise

that the child is no more:

that he is long dead

stabbed and strangled

and dragged in to the dark

The child within.

This is where

from a thousand paper bits

red in colour and spread on the floor

I read, like a revelation

so small a word

yet so enchanting

'love'.

This is from where all my journeys begin

and to where I return everytime .

To these graffited walls and open window

these orphaned letters in books scattered

the heat the cold

of my Room.

* A tribute to my hostel room where I spent the most part of the last three years.