Of poems that’d never be…

My humble interpretation of my following poem:
It’s this constant struggle between you and something you always were as a child or something that you want to be. The child, the friendly star and the caravan portrays the state of absolute happiness, truth and knowledge that one can possess. It is a symbol of having reached the acme point (nirvaana) which eludes everyone who are the children of long lost cultures lying in the very hearts of mountains. It picturizes oneself among these people of the land who are oblivious of the existence of a soul, like the one that the poet has, which constantly urges him to venture into or grope for the absolute reality or truth.

The poem is sad and disillusive since it shows the poet as a weak person and not one who stands boldly upright in the crowd of people he belongs to. This is a delineation of reality. Or else the poet would have been a great human being who could overpower the shortcomings like the ones possessed by the people of his valley. Thus the soul that kindles the fire in the hearts of people like the poet, is the true hero of the poem, which braves to scale upto the challenges posed by the deeply enrooted culture which is now dormant.

Thus, in the sentence,
The poems that would never be
The poet wants to say that, “poem” as a term implies the state of achieving nirvaana or the absolute truth.

The next sentence,
Of poets, never free
Implies the insignificance and fruitless existence of people like the poet, who are afraid to venture the path of truth, in spite of being haunted by their strong and dominant counterpart, THE SOUL !!!

Title: Of poems that’d never be…

Yet another day,
The sun shone bright
Yet there’s no light in sight,
As I plod along …

I plod along the paths of life
With weary eyes and feet so sore
With sacks of my deeds
That I carry along,
That burdens me more …

The battle goes on
Between right and wrong
Yet another day,
It’s me and my soul
There seems no end
It’s me against my soul …
I see the child in me
In my very eyes
Climb the vines of life
Among shades of flowers
That nurture trees,
In their bosoms deep …

I see him, talk to the trees
And sleep among the leaves
I see him, swim the rivers red
Among rhythms of love that run deep,
Run so very deep …

When silence screams
And laughter cries
And ghosts of loneliness crowd you
My weary eyes probe the dark skies
For a friendly star, of sunshine bright …

I feel like the solemn winds,
That roam valleys, in silent despair
Though cultures, buried in the hearts of mountains
Lay deep in slumber,
My soul rests no more,
In search of friendly caravans, it goes …

The battle goes on
Between right and wrong
Yet another day
Like the rain and the sun
There seems no end
It’s me against my soul …

As I plod along
I hear whispers, speak of
Poems that’d never be …
Of poets, never free
As I plod along …