bridge of words

my life

is a fistful of smouldering sediments

floating on a rivulet of time

you cast vibrations

on the splattered glass pieces

that dilute into the resonance of the mind

too deep to be touched

by time

your words

are a drop of shimmering ecstasy

stagnant in my trembling grasp

that drips down the pendulum

across people and places

to be a frozen bubble

of eternity

my pen

is a bridge of metaphors

across the rivulet of the time

that coerces the present and future

on the eternal pillar

of your words

i am but a tired traveler

walking into the broken miles

of a sleepy horizon

along a bridge of words

yet

sometimes i pause

to smell the decaying sediments

in the rivulet of time

below the bridge of words

can i ever hold on

to your heart burnt tears

that now seep into undercurrents

of the past?

every moment lived

is a story of the past

i am a tired traveler

time-travelling

on a bridge of words

till it crumbles

and then ………

i am a fistful

of smouldering sediments
lost in rivulets of time ........