The Void - By Raj Sharma

Whensoever I cry out to myself, the Void,
             filled to the brim,
             in my heart,
             echoes back,
             the silence that lies there.

My benumbed heart,
             feels the shrillness of the pitch,
             and the life,
             dead long ago,
             sits up in the grave,
             turns,
             and falls down with a "thud".
The heart rejoices at that,
             though I turn more deaf,
             with every "thud" I hear.

I long to break free,
             from the shackles,
             that bind me;
the spirit in me,
             looks out, looks up,
             and wishes,
             to soar high,
             in the sky;
It wants to rise,
             be it wings of life,
             or on death,
             if it flies.

My eyes,
            if only they could break open,
            the cage that holds me,
            my spirit,
            my heart,
            and, my life.

My wings,
            crushed and bruised and battered,
            that never will raise a flutter,
            though they wish to rise,
            but their wish may never suffice,
            the gaping ghosts,
            filled with vice.
           And the wish pains my heart,
            the same benumbed heart,
            that feels nothing.

Though,
           I might not break free,
           from the cage that holds me,
But, my soul,
           will thee,
           break free,
           from the cage inside me?

But, hold,
they say animals have no soul;
Then,
          who is it that I am talking to?
          Have they taken away,
          the one thing,
                                 that made me STAY?