Confusions

Confusions are like onions:

I have to peel the layers,

And cry a few unfeeling tears,

And then peel ,

A few more;

Till I find myself

Standing in the middle of a round maze,

Locked by spiral paths and long walls,

While the unfeeling tears keep flowing

And I feel my fingers still peeling:

But there is no onion!

I tell myself that I need to find

The door.

As I walk amazed around the maze

Following the long pink walls

Through the white fibers like grass,

I somehow feel that I have been here

Before.

The walls are tinted white inside,

And below the ground slopes down,

And above it rises to a violet dome,

And I go round and round

To the core.

There is a dizziness I feel

From all the rounding and peeling,

Because somehow I can’t get it off

My mind that there isn’t

A layer more.

But at the core of the maze

There is a tunnel so deep:

From the bottom to the top.

And I can see bright lights shining

At either shore .

I whisper to myself that

There is only one way out

Through the tunnel and

The teary air

To the lights of yore.

So I jump into the long tunnel

To slide down and out

To a state that usually sounds like freedom,

Only to find after the leap,

That somehow there is no gravity

In the tunnel so deep;

And that now I am suspended

In the middle of the maze,

Caught up amongst some thin white fibers.

And I feel tears still rolling unfazed.

An hour goes by,

When I hear a roar.

And the light starts increasing

In the long tunnel bore,

Through the translucent,

Pink walls which start glowing

More and more-

Till they become red.

Through those fibrous glowing walls

I can see in a pink haze,

Some shattering movement on

The other side of the maze,

Some giant finger

Stripping this place,

Of its walls and layers,

And beauty and rage.

I can hear the shredding sound,

As if those mighty walls were paper

Being torn round and round,

And thrown on the ground.

And when the last of the violet walls

Is torn asunder and falls,

The haze fades out and I can see clear.

And I see myself outside:

My hair is spiked up-

As if I just visited Aunty Gravity,

My eyes fixed

Somewhere on the floor,

My giant fingers are

Holding that round maze,

As I peel the onion,

Lost forever

In confusion.

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About Zeeshan

We are the twinkle in the eyes of oblivion.

2 comments

  1. Beautiful imagery; I can imagine being lost with you

  2. Wow! Thanks so much! One of the best things anyone has said around here! 🙂 😀

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