Monday, April 5, 2010

Demise of the artist

`
More and more the mind
Seeks solace within the head.

It does not yearn to fly again,
With the flock of storks over foggy fields;
Or to hop with monsoon frogs,
From leaf to leaf, across lily ponds.

Quite mysteriously, it has silently succeeded
In forgetting all those pleasures.

Instead, it now remains obsessed
With a corner within the cranium,
Where it has housed itself
Indefinitely.

Crouched in that dungeon,
Chained down by time,
It sits and works,
Like clockwork.

Perhaps it is too scared to float out:
Some unknown fear engulfs it now,
And it seeks comfort in cages.

It now longs for the assurance
Of meaning, over existence,
For a certitude
In the social orderliness.

Alas, it has got diseased
With this perfect sanity,
And there is nothing I am able to do about it.
`

4 comments:

  1. I love this poem..how the mind seeks comfort in cages :( I think it does happen to all of us!

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  2. Thank you :)
    It is such an unfortunate drift. And seemingly inevitable.

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  3. But I am glad you gave vent to it..The corporate world does make me feel the same!

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