HIS STUDY

Two decades since, it's in the past -

I stand in the hallowed room at last.

No cobwebs though, kept pretty clean -

my fingertips relive the old scene.

No books upon the table, bit of dust though - 
voices have faded, life lived on we know.
What is the pang in me, all the more?
I feel, he would walk in thru' the door.

I sit on the bench and up I look -
his greeting smile like an overflowing brook.
Outside the window, those boundary walls -
reply no more, to my childhood calls.

How life took a despaired, drastic turn -
I know 'He' is no more, yet more I yearn.
In the room his spirit lives ever free -
my guide, my star, my banyan tree...

PRASENJIT©2025

THE RISE AND FALL

The waves lash onto the shore -

further on and on and evermore.

They scatter upon the aged rocks -

it is how the sea to the land mocks.

Heavy despair burdened on the heart -

waves from the horizon playing its part.

Each drop is distinct on its own -

return to the golden shore all alone.

The drop is a drop never more -

full of froth, foam, fury and roar.

Those lonely drops, with a splash gone -

to the call of darkness, all alone. 

Into deeper depths they lay in wait,

echoes of past as memories, not forget.

Gurgling waves like beats of the heart -

mingle into one as they slowly depart.

What if those drops, those lovely things -

would have flown on dreamy wings?

Pulled from the sea, their own form -

would, in the sky call a grey storm.

As in constellation, the stars shine,

the sea thinks, 'the water is mine'.

Waves like giants pounce on the shore,

yet it keeps longing for evermore.

Each drop with its rise and fall -

such a short life for them all.

Do not think the drops are yet dead,

as they travel towards the sea bed.

They would again rise to the skies,

far from the sea's fury, roar and cries...

PRASENJIT©2025