Goutam Roy

Endless Turning Dreams— in their breaking and becoming— unfurl without end. An unseen rhythm cradles existence in the hush of fate, where time forgets its own beginning. Within this maze, being folds upon itself— a silent turning through corridors of unborn meaning. No haven appears, no stillness gathers— only the ceaseless search for a rest that never was. By  Goutam Roy 

When the Sky Remembers  In the dark, rain does not fall— it arrives with intent, hand in hand with the storm. Lightning writes its brief, violent script across a sky that no longer remembers blue. Thunder— unceasing— like a verdict echoing through the hollow of time. As if nature, long patient, now turns upon us— not in anger alone, but in memory: of a beginning when the sky was whole, and we had not yet learned to darken it. By  Goutam Roy 

Introduction:- Inward Drift is a contemplative, philosophical poem that explores the inward movement of consciousness beyond the physical world. It presents the mind as something untethered from earthly limits, drifting into a vast, almost cosmic interior space. The tone is meditative and introspective, drawing on imagery of silence, memory, and formless existence to evoke a journey that is less about travel and more about self-realization. Inward Drift Cradled in the cosmic hollow, the mind slips its earthly tether and turns within. It wanders unseen realms, as if memory were starlight. Far from form, it tastes the quiet of formless being. A whisper—unheard, known— draws it deeper into stillness. No journey— only return to the silence where longing begins. Short Interpretation:- The poem suggests that true exploration is inward rather than outward. As the mind withdraws from the material world, it enters a realm of stillness and pure awareness, where identity and form dissolve. The “w...

 .. Quiet Formation Words— their shifting forms— drift until the heart fills. Unbidden, the hidden currents rise, guiding speech. Phrases gather, shape a body— reach the reader’s mind. Thus it forms, sharpened in hope— a bright line across the heart. . By  Goutam Roy 

 Boundless Force Time— unmoored— drifts from a silence that never began. Something within turns toward it, as if remembering a home never known. The mind fractures into distances— universe after universe— circles within circles, naming the unnamed. Forms flicker— appear, withdraw— like light hesitating between being and not. No edge holds. No measure remains. Only a quiet unfolding— veil after veil loosening over what does not move. And beneath all passing— no beginning, no end— only this boundless force. By  Goutam Roy 

 Time’s Silent Flow In a drifting realm between thought and hush, hours loosen their edges. Two passing states brush in silence— like waves that meet only to part. We count— with numbers, with names, with instruments of certainty— seeking to hold what will not stay. Yet each moment escapes the finest measure, slipping through the unseen lattice of mind. Meanwhile, time— a river without witness— moves of its own accord, as forms gather and dissolve in the brief architecture of being. And what we call time lingers only as an idea we have learned to believe. By  Goutam Roy 

 Elusive Time Time—heaven’s quiet turning, a dream stepping into light. The cosmos exhales into existence with divine radiance. With its seven rays and thousand axes, it embodies the sevenfold colors of sunlight upon the earth, whispering across the void. Time appears as an infinite wheel— of birth, evolution, and dissolution. Yet the soul abides in a timeless, transcendental stillness, finding liberation when the river of time breaks its linear spell— and all moments flare at once into a single, undivided now. By Goutam Roy 

 Melancholic Strain  Who knows— this sorrowed current drifting along the mind’s far horizon is not of today, but a whisper carried from a life long dissolved? Perhaps it rises from unfulfilled longings— seeds of desire buried in the dark soil of time, silent, yet aching to awaken. Or is it a timeless strain, a hidden raga of the soul, tuned through endless ages, resonating in the unseen chambers of being? The secret remains veiled within that soundless abyss where memory dissolves— and the soul turns, again and again, in the eternal circle of life and death. By Goutam Roy 

 The Hidden Architect No hand was seen— yet form arose from dust; a mind beyond measure sketched law into being. A silent architect, veiled in origin, let darkness guard the hour of creation. We descend in wonder, and knowledge breaks open— vast, unending, beyond the grasp of thought. We name the seas we see, but deep within Earth’s veins another ocean listens— unlit, immense, holding the weight of fire, steadying the restless mantle in perfect, unseen balance. By  Goutam Roy 

 Vigil of the Western Sky At the quiet close of day, the sun withdraws to his rest, as though contemplating the burden of tomorrow— to rise again and pour his golden sustenance upon the breathing world. Behind the veil of darkness he conceals his radiant face, entering a silent meditation, reflecting on the endless pulse of eternity. Thus the cosmic sentinel keeps watch over the sacred order, guarding the fragile family of life in humble obedience to a will older than time. By  Goutam Roy 

 Metamorphosis First cry breaks the dark— leaving the silent shelter of the mother’s womb. Eyes meet a strange world, learning slowly to endure its shifting seasons. Steps wander forward, seeking what lies far beyond— the unseen calling. Whose hand guides his path? Even he cannot discern his own reflection. A paper boat drifts on the restless stream of time— life’s metamorphosis. By  Goutam Roy 

 The Sea of Sojourn  In this brief sojourn, some gather pearls in their satchels and quietly return home. Others wander for ages, bearing the weight of living, toiling on barren shores. So flow the streams of life, driven by an unseen force no mind can fully fathom. In the vast sea of existence, creation rises and falls with the restless waves. Still, the divers descend— seeking the hidden gems below, to quench a thirst carried across ages. By Goutam Roy 

 Meditating Sun At the day’s quiet end, the Sun returns to his resting place, as if to ponder tomorrow’s duty— to light the world again and pour the golden source of sustenance upon all that lives. Behind the veil of darkness he hides himself, entering a silent meditation, reflecting on the endless rhythm of eternity. Thus the cosmic keeper guards the sacred order, preserving the family of life in reverence to the Lord’s predestined design. By  Goutam Roy 

 Hymn of the Quiet  Earth Crimson dusk settles upon the earth. Evening arrives softly with the twittering of returning birds who, after a day’s long wandering, come home with the memory of scattered grains. The air slowly deepens into a contemplative hush, as if the world itself prepares to listen to the hidden hymns of the Almighty. A strange serenity descends. The trees, weary from the sun’s long vigil, stand motionless, surrendering to the gentle weight of dusk. Within this tender realm of quietude and shadow, silence widens its embrace— and there, unseen yet deeply felt, begins the silent communion of souls. By  Goutam Roy 

  The Symphony Of Light   The deep hollow black— where stars adorn the dark like a draped wrapper heavy with shimmering diamonds. Mystery deepens in the mute night; beyond reach, they toil at creation's silent work, demolition's hush. Ecstasy binds them in the void's hidden secrets.  A hush falls with the inward collapse of a veiled constellation— yet longing stretches to witness the drama overhead, hours into dawn. An intoxicated psyche drinks the symphony of light; those dazzled entities beckon, denying the body rest, luring the soul to unveil creation's shadowed heart. By  Goutam Roy