ESP (Esprambles): The Story of Life

vintage-sci-fi_3
The story of life

The story begins
not in the present,
not with any intent,
but in the mind of the writer,
lost, perusing his tomes,
as he creates a new history
with words filtered through
experiences and such
prismatic domes.

The story may
as well be about another,
or you,
or the men who are forgotten,
like our whims,
and our sins,
whose existence we deny
even in our most
unsettling dreams.

It’s a persistent search,
deep in the circular ruins
of unfinished books
and untrimmed wishes,
and he knows,
he has to take the turn,
that the maze ends
at the simple door,
but the platitudes
and attitudes keep him
away from the ending
and a closure.

The aura of latent
promises in him,
and possibilities
lying under the cove,
illuminates the city
of the writer’s trope.
It draws the
mermaids in plenty,
with its brilliant
nautical lights,
and they come singing songs
made of his thoughts
in those lonesome,
dark and dismal nights.

Harvesting each tune,
each note down to the last fin,
he writes the endings
that he always craved.
But with the songs gone,
a silence prevails,
attracting the hungry sea ghouls
who forage for emptiness
within all his finished scrolls.

Gnawing regrets
about the missed plots,
slowly devours every twist
and turn of the story told.
So when he believed he knew
where he was going,
with a purpose, a sense of direction
and that everything was fine,
it was nothing
but the arc of his story
succumbing to an
insipid straight line.

The silence of the lone ego
now echoes in the empty heart,
filling it with deafening screams
as he fills the pages with questions,
taking refuge in the scribblings,
complaining and complacent
the writer goes on to announce
that it makes absolutely no sense.

Stories don’t however end,
all it takes is another
turn in the maze,
or of releasing the mermaids
from their cage.
The story of life
is all about filling the void,
and letting the songs
fill the empty gaze
till another writer comes along
and flips your scribbled page.

[ESP’s writing can be found on Esprambles.]

ESP (Esprambles):”The black hole soul”

Inst-image-59
[Sudden Denouement is proud to announce that ESP (Esprambles) is now a member of the Sudden Denouement Collective. He is a powerful, unique voice and we are honored to call him one of our own.]

The black hole soul

Every sound, every act, every scene
is drowned by a sigh that still echoes
long after the hearts have broken,
the ones you left in the vacuous ruins,
lost like the howl of the proverbial wolf
that never existed except for its curious moon.

It sounds like the laughter you often hear
one without a purpose or a reason,
defying everything you stand for and believe in,
shaking the tree of your life that somehow stands,
but you keep searching for its missing roots.

A spring breeze tries to carry the autumn leaves,
those dead leaves take flight but settle around,
like undying memories haunting your busy days
and every time you close your eyes for a respite.

The stars you see are familiar
as you remember how they say
that the dead become stars,
but you know it is love, friendships, dreams
and such beautiful things in your life
that you gave up aspiring for stardom
which haunt you in your dark sky of conscience.

Unlike the dead and the buried,
the stars will die once they burn up
the last remnants of their story,
as every atom of your past gets fused,
releasing energy that fights gravity
of your implosive thoughts
and brings sanity to your subconscious.

The light beams that keep you awake
in the moonless, cloudless and sleepless nights
seem faint because you have gone distant
and probably are the vestiges of the once
bright and brilliant feelings, elated emotions
which are dying or already dead
for even light travels at a speed slower than
your ruminations and reconstructed sights
in these restless but fateful nights.
But you keep living with the knowledge
of an imminent death, vying for immortality,
you wish that everything that is you,
and that defines you, will once become a star
in the unending night and emit a light
that will hopefully meet the beams
sent by your past and resonate
before plunging into the spectacular black hole
that is the universe condensed in your ubiquitous soul.

[ESP’s writing can be found on Esprambles.]