Places#28: Void

These days, I wonder oftentimes,
How we could’ve never noticed the trend.
The common thread flowing through it all,
As if someone’s holding a sign above his head
And we never bothered to look up beyond his feet.
Will we ever see this? And
Will we ever listen to the things been told
And register them too? Or shall my poems linger
As a thirty day challenge of writing thirty poems
One each day?
Shall my poems just be that?
A used toothpick lying on the pavements
Never to be noticed that it has blood on its tip.
Blood is irrelevant without actual acquaintance
To its actual carrier. These days.
Wonder how we’ve all become mosquitoes?

Words don’t move your heart no more.
Time’s healed ya. Your hearts moved on.
Cause moving on is a popular trend, these days.
We’ve self-help articles in the newspaper
Telling us how to do that in 13 steps.
And our hearts have become
Just another destination in space
It moves away from the place where
You would’ve originally gone
If you were to reach there. Address.
Your heart’s a geometric function
Tending towards zero. Like we all are.
And everything.

These days, I wonder oftentimes
Why disappearance has become a tendency.
And why we’d never notice that without being told.
Haven’t we all seen it disappear
Right in front of our eyes? Don’t we, still?
Houses disappearing into themselves
Children disappearing into gardens of ignorance
Their schools disappearing into hangars.
Libraries disappearing into thin air.
Sides disappearing on the bridge.
Doors disappearing in the hospitals.
Crossings disappearing into the traveler.
She disappearing into the wall
She disappearing in the skies
She disappearing into a freefall.
I’m a poem of disappearance.

Void is a promise and therefore, a place
For you can live inside a promise too.
And we have. All of us. All.
And this series of articles-claiming-to-be-a-poem
Shall be called ‘Places Don’t Exist’.
I’ve known that for too long.
And I wonder how things always fall into their places.
Yes, they fall. Like rain.
From the heaven up above
We have a downpour of everything
And we see them covering us too.
We are a jamboree of places.
We are a collage of distance and directions.
We are a promise of void.
For what falls from the skies must evaporate too.
And we’ve all the fire in our homes, these days,
To make that happen. The call of void
Is undeniable. Insatiable. And unavoidable.

Like places from the heavens
We’ll be raining down too, someday
Into the void
And linger there
For we’ve nowhere to go
And nowhere not to.

Yes, we’ll all become paradoxes
Cause void is devoid of places
And this place is a promise and a void.