Awake Or In Dream-Light Poem by Ananta Madhavan

At times, awake or in dream-light,
I feel adrift, unable to distinguish
The elements as separate. What I see
Is merged with the tactile sense
Of typing fingers or suspended feet,
And these sensations are merged with
Thoughts, memos, memories, concerns.
Will the plane be late, how late, or perhaps
It may have overshot the runway in Bangkok,
Or, God forbid, a wicked gang of terrorists
May have tried to overwhelm the pilots,
Threatening to blow it up with fake bombs
Worn on their torsos. That fear is no pretense.

Maybe we are all fake, ‘make-believe' models
In some vast and formless drama where we are
Both dramatis personae and audience in pits or stalls.

How can I reconstruct the universe,
Precisely as it is said to be, by all the pioneers
And encyclopedias which I have learnt to trust?

I feel like a drowning tourist in a capsized bark,
Who wants to breathe, but finds the will of waters
Dragging him down to depths he can't surmise;
Where even dream-light is too dim and dismal
To reassure the actor's right to life. And yet,
Having conjectured these hazards, I am glad
To have survived and found some words to say,
"I am happy to have lived this far. So Long! "

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5 April,2016