Spiraling Into Darkness with Sarthak Das

Oh how it must feel, to die or to give in. We always try to stay afloat but is there any sweetness in giving in? Sarthak, in his poem, talks about the darkness as nature as if it were nothing to be afraid of and this is similar to many works of famous artists who found their peace in absence of fear. He then moves on in a meta- space to talk about poetry within in his poem. Read the beautiful and serene work below.

As I Lay Dying, Perhaps Spiraling Into Darkness

“I cannot walk by day as now I walk at dawn

Past the still house where you lie sleeping.

May the sun burn away these footprints on the lawn

And hold you in its warmth and keeping.”

– Vikram Seth.

Night walks briskly into the absinthe sky. Whispers muffle themselves into soft dew drops – we perspire, hand in hand. Walls around us are shrinking, crumbling into dilapidations. When dawn perched into my bare bosom, I was wrapped in paraphernalia of ageing oakwood, which, like wine, reeks of loss and contemplation, amidst other things. A sudden flash of lightning, and here we are, into the fog-laden rusty mud tracks that lead to naked sesame fields.

Now the moon wanes into her adolescence. I stand here, amidst wildflowers and acacia and

eucalypti, shuffling hours for seconds. I stand here, and claustrophobia kisses me in the nape – words form shadows, and shadows in the darkness mean nothing.

I often wonder how it must feel to be a withering tree on a stormy autumn night. Breathes

Agha Shahid Ali gently into my ears –

“The world is full of paper.

Write to me.”

I close my eyes, smiling.

Poetry means nothing, but nothing means everything.

Artwork: Oakwood Cemetery by Ylli Haruni. Source: Fine Art America Website.

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For the love of art,

Sarthak Das