The signal

 

The weakening signals

That break the voice 

Once which was clear

When the I within me

Was wrapped with nothing 

Then the layers I earned

Dispersed the seeds of soul

In search of better clime

Lost in the layers my clumps 

Twirled into significant shapes

Recognized by the outer world

That remains usually amorphous 

The silence of the thudding beats

That rippled between ears once

To create tides within the mind

Now it gets no relief to sprout

One stroke or the other always

Continues to smudge the canvas

For white is not a perceived color

The unison of the spectrum 

Is often mistaken as left out 

The signal dies in an effort

To prove the echoing commotion 

That there is no silence within

While the lost signal severs

The connect of the inner world

When my breath dangles 

It often twitches the blinds

For a small peep outside 

These blindfolding layers

If you still wait eagerly

For a knock from within

The signal to open the core

When there is no difference 

Between what lies out or within.

Rishikesh 

2328

01.52 hrs

27.12.25