Nightmare, wolf and the hare

The end, the beginning and the concealed secrets
of dreams are ghastly reminders of our depth and fears.

The dark and eerie gloom of the dawn
made a fitting presence, with the sweat on his palms.
He stared across the camouflaged air
to catch a glimpse of the wolf’s despair.

The ravening soul’s utterly disregarded salvation
was etched on the rocks he dragged his prey by.
The prey-the rabbit wheezing out a whistle of its breath
had its salvation etched on the teeth of the savageĀ holding its neck.

Blood and lust for hunger survived somehow
to reveal the subtle truth of deliverance from the God’s sins.
BeingĀ an illusive complex of web built to capture the weak and the weary,
the intricate patterns of which turned out to be dark, vile and scary.

The dreamer-the listener heard the decibels of howl and
assumed it to be the cry of hunger from the wolf’s fluted wind pipe.
but only the last few breaths of the rabbit knew
that the howl was a disguise of a delicately let out burp.

The dreamer woke up with a sweaty palm
his eyes misty and unclear with a veil of tear.
The end, the beginning and the concealed secrets
of dreams are ghastly reminders of his depth and fears.

The curse of the karmic rabbit

The story revolves around a cook, a rabbit and me.
The story would etch a mark of karmic retaliation in me.
Morals and lessons of the night would impact me and change
like the wandering questions that fly off the grid and out of range.

A far little home-stay out of the buzz of the mainstream lots,
this quaint green town was adorned with numerous downstream spots.
The ride to the place was crooked and mystical with a heavenly twist
a drop of fear as unseen sweat births itself from the anxious blindness of the mist.

The caretaker told me that he would cook for the night
belittling my desire to ride back to the town with no presence of light.
He asked me if I had a suggestion for dinner in mind,
I told him that I would love a rabbit curry with a roti so plain.

He assured me that he would cook one if I caught it and killed,
as the guilt of slitting its throat is too much to take in at the end of the day.
He also told me that a rabbit would put its hands together and pray
when preyed on and that it sent down shivers on his spine brutal and chilled.

I had to ride out later that night to receive my friends,
who were drained that the ride to the lost place never really ends.
Weirdness carried on as a friend even mistook me for a fool in disguise,
when he passed me on the road in a speed that was mean and unwise.

Bringing them back in the rough terrain roads
with no signs of light but squirming of toads.
Riding my ruby little fast upfront
I witnessed the learning curve of life.
Bent a little too dangerously in the pebbled up path
a rabbit came out and bubbled up the wrath.
His eyes so frightened was illuminated with the beam
of light that came out of the headlamps as the lost river stream.
I hope he did not notice my scared and frightened pair
as I stamped on the break with no sense but despair.
Alas I’m down and my lights are finally gone
the dizzy daze of my fall made me laugh at once.
Friends so worried asked if I’m okay and not gone mad,
I told them I had a story to tell on the insect-filled shack.