Edina-13 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

We should have played on that open field in the land of dreams,
Of fledging phantasy, of cloudy curiosity and prized hour, amusing.
When compulsions were not so pressing, every evening appeared charming like merry golds,
Hearts were bold and alive to each sincere calling, ears swelled with teenage mutterings,
Eyes, the grainery of spontaneous feelings, each morning defined the noble birth.
But truant mind, close bosom disciple of immaturity enticed us to alienate the land,
For an unknown and thorny passage, full of withered leaves and dull looking sparrows and crows,
A premature send off for erring lives, earliest sun set much before the evening.
Next courting an ice berg which was taken as all of the warm life,
Justifying the voyage on standstill river with the dream of pacific
And waiting still now expending two decades for its prompt melting
To bring the grandeur of waves, gathering power ample to move our vessel.
Know not how many farthings this vessel has travelled in such dark forest,
Where pensive aloofness adrift from the shore lumbering over the boat
Like a stray summer cloud lingering for hours in windless night.
Minds with all misgivings and ordeals seek some positive hours for self care,
For another world not so opaque and bare, too introvert and reserve.
Perhaps this forest dim looking meditating or else all our sincere good reading
Garnering power enough to unchain us from all misgivings and shallow drudgery,
To trace out that open field however belated but at least in life afternoon,
That may help us to chart the new course of life bidding this vessel moving, if any.