Am I asking for too much when I say
I want more than this slipshod existence?
Or is that too little?
Affliction and hurt haunts me, breaks me down –
white demons masquerading as bright light –
I fight with battered weapons, a worn gown –
but in the end, I’m lost to the dark night –
Doubt without faith; callousness without love,
and I’m torn asunder, hand in glove
with misery’s curse, with hatred’s dagger,
wistfully wanting more than this wicked stagger,
stepping, stumbling, slipping,
falling, failing, fading,
never knowing, never reaching.
Show me more, give me unrestrained love –
Teach me more, ask me, ‘why, when and how?’
Give me more, a beautiful redemption –
Love me more; more than base, low, sensation –
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)
You’ll find more of Nitin’s work at Fighting the dying light