his past's legacy

every step of this journey
craving rhythms
of unsaid emotions
and even
those favorite ones,
the poet walks
tasting every bit
of his remaining time
for life has not been
so favoring him..
multitudes of questions
from as many directions
as possible,
stood alone is
his own words
screen less,
straight from
the firing pulse
of his kind heart..
what mystic combination
does he possess,
that he dances
among whores,
for their heartfelt invite
touches him,
and meditates
amongst the fish mongers,
nobody dares disturb him though,
when people ask
if flush matters
he would say yes,
but when his
flush matters,
he goes beyond,
not caring
whether to surpass
or to quit,
he just lets go,
and some envy him
for being unattached,
but he calls it
fully attached...
that's how he himself
has made it..
this excessive confidence
in life and his words
he brought not
but his soul's part
who flew from
the farthest island
to the proximity
of stealing his share
of breathe and heat..
she wrote poems
on him,
which he never could have..
and those deep lines
of solid piercing
made this poet
a poet of no time..
or beyond time
and matter..
but..
being away from
what's tasted is
how he becomes cruel..
not just neglecting
but fully abandoning
the beauty of his past..
bygones can never
appeal  being
his past's legacy,
for even he dwells not
after every little deed,
how on earth would he
let his reminiscence
to resurrect
from his self made tomb?
and that's how
the fairy and the poet
strike a unique balance,
you call it chemistry or
whatever,
but he would just say,
it just happens...
...