Goutam Roy

 A Bird Without Captivity An imprisoned bird yearns to unfold its forgotten wings, while a wounded heart buries its cries beneath the ashes of anguish. Yet, beyond the silence, the Creator whispers through the mysteries of existence, awakening the scorched soul from its wordless depths. And what once remained imprisoned within, begins to take flight through the infinite tongues of creation. By Goutam Roy 

 The Endless Rehearsal To build is to crash, to crumble into dust, then feign to begin anew— the ritual of creation continues age after age. A new episode is thought to unfold, yet the same old story is composed again. The stage remains unchanged, only the actors depart, making room for others to rehearse the past. Nothing gleams on the distant horizon, no guiding Polestar to lead the way beyond this endless cycle. By Goutam Roy 

 White Temple Again, a storm! At the door it knocks, seeking entry, threatening to topple the pinnacle of serenity— so transient, so fragile. Tender hearts cannot withstand the sudden blows; they bend, their heads bowing beneath the weight of sorrow, their eyes brimming with tears, yet fixed upon the White Temple. By Goutam Roy 

 The Theatre of Dreams Dreams drift through infinite dramas, staged incessantly in the theatre of time. Few find their bodies in the realm of reality; the rest remain suspended, staring at distant horizons. Laughter and tears share the same curtain, while hope and despair exchange their masks behind the scenes. Thus, life unfolds— a delicate performance, where joy rehearses sorrow and sorrow dreams of joy, beneath the unseen hands of an eternal playwright. By Goutam Roy 

 Seconds Time runs too fast,  allowing no pause,  no leisure to rest. Each fleeting fraction  of a second vanishes  into eternity's hollow,  bearing invisible particles  from one end towards the infinite,  never to return in its former guise. Countless seconds weave themselves  into a new history,  then dissolve along  their destined paths. They never turn back  to behold what they have left behind—  the footprints of existence  buried beneath the passage of time. By Goutam Roy 

 Mystery The dusty sky, stained grey with black, unfolds the tale of panicked wayfarers who came to fill their satchels with pearls— perhaps to answer the Lord's unanswered question with a gentle smile. But the hunger remains. Unsatiated souls stare into the flames where borders bleed, dreams crumble, and nameless children inherit the ashes of a paradise they never knew. Once, your footsteps purified the earth; your breath made the air sacred. Now, the winds carry the unfinished arguments of iron and fire, while the heavens keep their counsel. Who has stolen the silence of Eden? Who has taught the flowers to fear the footsteps of spring? Perhaps the giants are still at play, moving kingdoms across the chessboard of the earth, while pawns of flesh and blood fall beneath their hands. And you remain silent— you, who once dreamed of a paradise purified by your presence. Is your silence the last mystery of creation, or the permission by which the giants continue to reign? By Goutam Roy...

 Musk The sea wears the musk of tranquillity, while molten anger stirs beneath its skin. Yet the waves must flow, bound by the laws etched into the bones of eternity. Sometimes, they rise in fury, then retreat into silence, only to awaken their buried rage again. Here, creation and destruction dance in an endless cycle, each devouring the other to make room for what survives. And the sea remains— serene upon its face, a universe of unrest beneath. By Goutam Roy 

 The Many Within the One By Goutam Roy A drop— a nameless fragment of the immeasurable, until its kin converge and the ocean awakens. A brick, mute beneath the weight of time, finds its meaning in the company of others; together, they raise a mansion against the emptiness of the sky. Perhaps existence is built upon this secret: nothing becomes everything without surrendering something of itself. An engine pulls the train through the iron veins of distance; the wheels obey the rails, while unseen landscapes slip into oblivion. But who commands the journey— the force that leads, the wheels that carry, or the tracks that prescribe the way? Above the earth, a flock writes its silence upon the unwritten sky. Each wing is separate, yet the pattern belongs to none alone. Is togetherness the surrender of many wills to a single direction, or the discovery of a freedom that exists only among others? And when the mansion touches the indifferent heavens, when the ocean forgets the countless dr...

 The Pyre Between the Fingers A silent killer nestles between the fingers, disguised as a friend in the theatre of smoke. A blurred psyche chases moments of solace, while hemlock whispers through the corridors of breath. The mind drifts, unmindful of the bargain—  a little pleasure borrowed against  an unknown tomorrow. A tiny sun burns at the edge  of the darkness,  promising light  while devouring its own horizon. With every fading ember,  an unseen clock moves;  the lungs become a garden  where poisonous clouds take root. And life, still breathing,  mistakes the warmth of fire  for the comfort of a friend,  until the fingers release only ash—  and the silence of a fading heartbeat. By Goutam Roy 

 The Elixir Within Tired of the quest, the elixir remains unmoved, enshrined in sanctity, defiant against the turbulence of the sea. Weary of standing sentinel, the receptacle awaiting nectar begins to sense the vanity of its vigil— the waste of time, as the mind drifts through a hollow sky. Then, unexpectedly, life discovers another life within the hollow chamber of a solitary heart. By Goutam Roy 

 The Womb of Silence  Before the word, silence dreamed— not the absence of being, but the womb of all that might become. Within its unlit depths, nameless thoughts wandered, like unborn stars searching for their own darkness. The mind, still without a voice, became a shoreless ocean where fragments of the unseen gathered into dreams. Slowly, the formless stirred; shadows began to imagine light, and the void, unaware of its own longing, prepared to give birth to existence. No tongue had broken the silence, no sound had crossed the abyss— yet creation was already unfolding, writing itself upon the unwritten. Perhaps the first word was never spoken; perhaps it was silence itself discovering that it could become something other than silence. By Goutam Roy 

 The Wheel of Time A drowning soul clutches at a straw, as though the fragile reed could bargain with the river for one more breath. But the current knows no mercy. It carries the nameless waters towards the sea, where every river surrenders its name. We, too, reach for something— another shore, another promise to outlive the vanishing moment. Yet time turns, and what we hold slips through our fingers like water through a broken dam. Perhaps the Lord waits beyond this vanishing, but His ways remain veiled from our knowing. And still, the wheel turns— bearing us forward through the mist of becoming, towards a destination we call our own, though fate may have chosen it before us. By Goutam Roy 

 The Death of Unblossomed Buds The buds wither and fall before they bloom in the garden of the world, where insects have reigned since primordial times, driven by merciless instincts. They devour everything, leaving nothing for the tender buds to unfold their petals, release their fragrance, or bring a touch of heaven to this wounded earth. No one considers their hunger, their fragile need to survive; each thirsts only to quench its own desire. And so the buds fall, withered before their time, from the sheltering branches of their helpless mother trees. Born into poverty, denied life's nourishment, they perish before the dawn of their promised spring. The garden grows silent, its unborn blossoms lost— while the world moves on, unmoved by their absence. By Goutam Roy 

 The Unwritten Road Along life's sojourn, we relinquish dreams beyond our reach, yet shoulder the burden of what remains, which slowly blurs the dreams we once cherished, urging us to dream again and proceed along the stony path. At last, we sit with our memories, ruminating over stories of fulfilment and unfulfilment in the bygone days. Yet how far we have already travelled, how many roads lie buried behind us. Now, grey eyes stare into the hollow ahead, quietly wondering— what comes next? By Goutam Roy 

 When the Sky Whispers  The quiet sky stares at the turbulent sea, whispers, and tells the waves of a silence deeper than their rage. The sea roars, unable to comprehend the sky's stillness, while clouds drift by, carrying secrets of an endless universe. By Goutam Roy 

 Beneath the Sands of Time How much of the unknown has stepped into the light, while mysteries still sleep beneath the turning of Time? What is now a desert may once have cradled an ocean, where strange creatures wandered beneath forgotten skies. Waves have yielded to winds, and living forms to fossils— silent chronicles of life sealed within the Earth's ancient pages. Continents shift, mountains crumble, and climates rewrite the world; yet beneath the shifting sands, forgotten ages lie awake. Time buries and reveals, transforms and recreates. What humanity forgets, the Earth remembers. By Goutam Roy 

 Quest for the Elixir Tired of questing, the elixir remains unmoved, enshrined in sanctity, defiant against the turbulence of the sea. Tired of standing sentinel, the receptacle awaiting nectar, begins to sense the vanity of its efforts— the waste of time, letting the mind drift through the hollow sky. Then life finds another life within, in the hollow chamber of a solitary heart. By Goutam Roy 

 You If you stayed with us at every moment, uncrushed and unbroken, heaven would draw near to our earthly haven, among the seven, throughout the world. But you are tender; you cannot endure the torments we inflict— fire, and fire, and fire. Yet you remain calm, offering respite from the pain of burning, playing the gentle role of a soothing balm. And yet, we forget you, only to seek you again when our infinite thirst drives us back to you. By Goutam Roy 

 At Dark Night As time flows on, the trees and all creatures grow calm and drowsy, ready to retire to their beds. The stars will dazzle at their own sweet will, beckoning all to behold their jeweled splendour scattered across the dark. Dark particles drift through the eternal void, amid the ceaseless expansion of the cosmos. Sensitive souls hear the whispers of stars and air in the darkness. They wish the night would linger, unwilling to let it slip away too soon. By Goutam Roy 

 Bullfighting Primordial instinct still holds its reign, concealed beneath countless excuses, as if perfumed with the musk of deception. A mirage of peace rises before the keepers of the olive branch, only to be trampled by the charioteers of wrath. Deep beneath the surface, the ancient bullfight continues age after age— an endless spectacle of creation and ruin upon the world's stage. Yet no pigeons appear to cleave the sky, bearing the message of peace to a world still captive to its primal rage. By Goutam Roy