The Silence Beyond Eden

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The Silence Beyond Eden  The sky, dust-laden, wears the stains of ash, while restless souls gather pearls of eternity, yet their hunger remains unsatiated. Frontiers bleed, dreams crumble into ruins, and nameless children inherit an unknown Eden's ashes. Once, your footsteps consecrated the earth, your breath sanctified the wandering winds. Now, iron and fire dictate the fate of spring. Who taught the flowers to fear their blossoming? Perhaps the giants still play their ancient game, moving kingdoms across the chessboard of the earth, while pawns of flesh and blood vanish beneath their shadows. And you remain silent, beyond the ruins of paradise. Is your silence the final mystery of creation, or the permission through which the giants reign?
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The Unfinished Map

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 The Unfinished Map

When time falls silent,
faded memories awaken,
lingering in a guarded chamber
where years have folded them away,
waiting for the mind
to turn their pages again.
Numb with longing,
I gaze into the void,
searching for fragments
buried beneath forgotten days—
a quiet pilgrimage
toward the person I once was.
The mind becomes a cartographer,
tracing the lost geography of identity
along the ink-dark rivers
of vanished remembrance.
Memories, stubborn wheels,
keep turning across
the blank parchment of the present,
leaving behind
the contours of yesterday.
From those scattered shadows
a silhouette slowly rises—
stitched with echoes,
frayed by time,
yet fierce enough to endure.
No fixed harbour contains the self;
no final map can define it.
The winds of memory
keep pushing the vessel onward,
while every wake it leaves
becomes another line
upon the unfinished map of being.
Perhaps the self is not
what memory preserves,
but what emerges
from the journey between
what was, what remains,
and what is yet to become.

By Goutam Roy 

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