The span

 

One last look at the canvas

Remains the deepest one

Between now and eternity

There is an ocean of time

Attempts, chances , opportunity

Hence the eternal procrastination

Of stretching the last glance now

Within the fathom of present effort.

When the first sight is also the last

The two horizons collide into one

The sea gushes with a crushed rage

 A giant demon cramped in a minuscule cage

There the mental compass loses direction

All but what is in the ambit of sight

Is a matter of fading irrelevance

If the canvas were an eternity

We would eke out the color bits till the last corner

In the process dry out the pensive brush

But when events slip into the past

The mind chews the  cud of memories

With a rich stroke oozing from bristles

Searching for a discarded inch of blank canvas.

 

Delhi

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