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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 Wheel of Eternity

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 The Wheel of Eternity The wheel of eternity drives its unseen chariot, compelling all things into motion. Relentless in its course, it runs upon adamant paths, unyielding to desire, indifferent to delay. Its fleeting velocity, so mighty in passing, shall cease before its destined hour, at the edge of doomsday. Then comes a sudden blitz, shaking the accumulated dust heaped along the roads of lives, and scattering the remnants of forgotten journeys. By  Goutam Roy 
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The Unseen Script

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 The Unseen Script  Before the birth of speech,  within the womb of stillness,  thought-particles drift— contingent,  unmoored— through a darkened hollow  out of primordial time, seeking haven,  release from the inertia of being. They accrue, subtle architectures  forming the latent plots  of an eternal drama— unvoiced, yet forever shaping  the unseen script of silence. By  Goutam Roy 
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Subpoena

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  Subpoena Waiting for a subpoena, with a trembling heart, in fear of a whispered colloquy approaching in the twilight years. It is time to ruminate upon faded memories and the incomplete record of a feeble heart, to take measure of the soul's inventory. The world appears too dusty now before two eyes draped in a silver haze. By Goutam Roy 
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The Short Day

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  The Short Day Beyond the short day, the long night whispers, waiting for its destined hour to carry out its ancient charge before calling forth the eternal light. Though weary of the endless journey, one must still complete the work ordained. By  Goutam Roy 
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Sparking Scintilla

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 Sparking Scintilla Sparking scintillas in the darkened hedge at night— the whispering of the mind is heard within the silent abyss. For a fleeting moment, befriending the glow-worms, they wander through the night, smearing shadows upon the dark. Silence is fragmented by the ceaseless call of the hedges, and within them the interplay of the inward and outward realms goes on endlessly.   By  Goutam Roy 
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Satiated Heart

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 Satiated Heart How many nights have you stayed awake thinking of me? How many times have you touched my cheeks in dreams just to feel delight? You do not know I still receive the warmth of your love each time you pour your elixir into my heart. Perhaps you feel it, perhaps you do not, but every single day I quench my thirst within your love. By Goutam Roy 
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Cry from the Graves

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 Cry from the Graves Sudden turbulence in the dust of broken promises drove the gentle dreamers toward the chambers of forgotten names, forsaking all their colourful inner thirsts. None remain to think of them upon this desolate planet. Their painful final breaths have turned into heart-rending cries, as though urging the world to fall forever silent. By  Goutam Roy 
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