Take my hand

For father, for memories, for the lost times…

For the times you weren’t there and for the times distance spoke the truth.

For the letters, the mails, the long lost times.

For those who can subtract hope from the truth and yet walk --- for you!

For the bridges that are burning, for the tigers that are starving ------- for the roses which aren’t yet born.

For the screams of the specters.

For the demons of ancient symbols.

For the disowned saliva, for the wasted sweat of love.

For the naked peace, for the dreams of the dead.

For the memories and history --- for the war that rages in between. In silence.

For the lost strings of history and for the final battle cry.

Take my hand --- our kiss last night was but a deluge.

A deluge to dance, but I would rather walk.

That sharp, scathing pain. It still rings. Somewhere.

A distant scream. Like those that are never heard.

In the lull before the storm, your voice shall ring. Would you deny me of that hope --- while I am lost and my soles and souls merge?

For the insanity of the fire where the demons sleep and the rain when they wake up.

When the bullets stop firing, when the slogans recede, and the faint echoes of the old songs die --- would you take my hand?

For my friend is lost, beyond the wall, with his kite. He stopped dreaming long back. His door always goes unanswered.

In a rainy night, of broken dreams, and of wild love --- for the times when we had the wind in our hair --- when laughter lasted longer than its cause.

For the moonchild. For the colossal towers of civilization which crumble --- for the rotten bricks, for the dance of the fox with the impatient moon.

Take my hand --- the cold grass and the fire beside.

For the stars and the stardust.

For the long lost road.

For the long lost friend.

Take my hand.

This Night Owl Original has been authored by Bishwadeep Mitra. A content writer from Kolkata, Bishwadeep holds a Masters in Film Studies from Jadavpur University. Yet to find out why he exists, his passion lies in researching the unknown historiographies and unique perspectives of looking at the events of the past that continue to shape the events of the present.