Inspired by ideas in “Kafka on the shore” and “A hundred years of solitude”.
during the monsoons
when it rains
you only have to wait long enough
and everything would end –
life, love, pain, fear –
time forgets to move forward
yesterday bumping into today
memory looping into imagination
death giving into life
love blending with hate
words dissipating into breaths.
i stand atop a mountain,
bearing down on me
and stare incredulously
at the vastness of space,
land, trees and human enterprise;
at time, past and present
as it stays still in front of me
and at the intersection of the two
where I blend into you.
you once asked me
what if there was a place where
time was stored?
maybe, I replied,
all of time is in front of you
a few moments stand out,
several fade into the background
and the ones you don’t want to lose
are hidden deep in a forest,
where nothing has decayed yet
and we are also there.
(The title is from “The Dictionary of obscure sorrows” and refers to “nostalgia for a time you’ve never known“)