The Land that never was – Divyanti Mishra

Wonderland

WonderlandIn this market of despondency, we bargain for dead hopes,

The satirical correspondence and we are labelled misanthropes.

A fleeting glimpse of a memory, they say you’ll be no more,

Gruelling facts; some call it destiny, amidst this flooded shore.

Seeking to atone my sins, I look back from where I stand;

I watch, a mere spectator, as my footprints are washed away with the sand.

I close my eyes and in the sacred endlessness of the dark, I set out to seek my wonderland.

 

Fatigued with the burden of pretending,

I stand here, today, with a heart broken beyond mending.

In the abstractions of the wind, I feel my faith being blown away.

Loquacity to resilience gives way,

As prayers and blessings go astray.

With the sand of time slipping through my hand,

I briefly glance back from where I stand.

And from the dilapidated memories,

I try, in vain, to find my wonderland.

 

Overcome, I doubt not, by my grief

Today, even the sky begins to weep.

Overpowered, I doubt not, by my pain,

Tonight, even in the heavens, it is going to rain.

Your absence, in this heart, will be felt once again,

And breaking these chains of pain, I lose myself in the aura of your name.

From the safe confines of my mask, I see another mask feign,

Where the line has blurred between the wise and insane.

Through the tired eyes of Nature, I observe time from where I stand,

And, in my writhing soul, I search for the wrecks of my wonderland.

 

Time is unforgiving as it plunders and explores;

Destiny – a tyrant – her atrocity, to an unprecedented height, soars.

Overcome, I doubt not, by my heartbreak,

Tonight the lightning causes the floors of Hades to shake.

Bestowed with a faith that reaches beyond faith,

I seek my God in a lost and lonely land.

I deified a human and let his will be my command;

Now my God is leaving, I can barely look back from where I stand,

Amidst this broken wonderland.

 

Overwhelmed, I doubt not, by my grief,

Today the tree of life shed its very last leaf.

Clinging on to the last strand of an obsolete belief,

All pains arise but life is brief.

With a view that’s no longer mine, I look back from where I stand

And realize it’s futile seeking the remains of a castle of sand;

I realize that there never was and never will be any wonderland.

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