Often A Disquiet

My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. Everything interests me but nothing holds me. I attend to everything, dreaming all the while. I’m two and both keep their distances- Siamese twins that aren’t attached.

~Fernando Pessoa, Book of Disquiet

Often a ray

Calls my name from where the Sun sank

Often a ship

Sailing too fast strikes the river bank

Often a river

Overflows right in front of me

Often a fragrance

Dances and plants kisses on my cheeks

I sit down

No matter where I am

And often I fancy

Some strange shapes and forms in debris.

Often Moon rumbles

Deep in my pocket it turns and dribbles

Setting Sun, sinking slowly

Eaten up by some speck like squirrels on a tree

Often wide world shrinks

Fits right in my hands like my favourite cup of a tea

I get up

From wherever I am

Often Night

Like some Ants comes crawling cautiously.

Often a laugh

Like some cold-breeze blows

Often a glance

Pierces like a spear’s pointy edge

Often a trivia

Stands tall like a peak of Mount

Often a silence

Adorns my noisy bare body

I move on

From wherever I am

Often a disquiet

Turns quietly into a fulfilling journey.