And Yet Poem by Subrata Ray

And Yet.

And yet, and yet, and yet,
We would wait,
Effacing the beguiled Fate.

For the caught catch,
From the grotesque's vase,
Would radiate, willing rays.

The half-flashed smile,
The planted vigor,
The swinging of the inevitable,
May or may not be,
But the lone twine,
Acts radioactive wine,

Threshold to threshold,
And beyond the crossed bar,
We would read our book,
And rise on feeling,
From anesthetized shadows.