Tapestry

(A Sentimental Journey)

By Dhrup Chand

Yesterday, I began sleeping

into another yesterday where I had been king.

Not very far away from today lies that yesterday of memories, dreams, and ashes (a part of me has died) Fluttering lashes once again teased me, out of their dark and mysterious seeing eyes that melted in my gaze, as though the sun had melted all that it had held in its moist sentiment.

A tapestry of the past revealed, as though at last it could hold no more, no more; unravelling its mysterious lies and half-truths and mirths moulded in the sun and earth of its own private world.

The vision dissolved into tears.

Inspiration was a fugitive It betrayed me.

Deserted me and I was left alone . . . with a piece of torn tapestry in my hand, thinking of a blind girl.