Man Who Knew It All

Man Who Knew It All

 Let me describe to you a souvenir of my mind

Something so memorable

That anything I shall paint to you 

Would emasculate the wholeness of the feeling,

The night let me to explore 

On that precious setting;

Little silver studs clasped onto the velvet black veil,

The night held the gaping wanderer awestruck in her arms

With waves frolicking like gentle pets

Beckoning the grainy sands to stroll alongside them

The aural blessings of the seas soothed the soul of the onlooker,

Helming them closer to their origin

It is perhaps the primal beginnings of our history

That drew me to the waters that night,

As I sat beside him

Limbs stretched out towards the horizon

His eyes held a fixed gaze

His lips slightly curved,

That left an impression of an untold joke in my own mind,

And I smiled foolishly as if the winds whispered his secrets into my ears

He showed not a trace of movement;

If not for the solemn vows of his breath to life

You would think of him as a mere statue in the sand earned terrain,

He sat unperturbed, a blanket of calm shrouded his being

My heart yearned to know his thoughts,

They seemed to flit above the ocean,

Synchronous with the waves as they traveled in harmony

A traveler he was, wandering the expanse of the oceans

Seeking new lands and old,

He must have felt the warmth of the sun somewhere,

The rush of cold paws elsewhere

The scent of the sweaty seamen and their briny humor,

Or the peculiar aroma of the hawkers on the beach

The cold arms of gravity luring ships into its embrace

Or the calm seas, that left them stranded on waters unknown

The sun as he rose like a fallen hero, 

Staggering at first,

Then darting forth with surging adrenaline, blinding all that held him down;

He watched him return into the pockets of the seas

Leaving a trail of a bloody battlefield

As the moon glided across in her chariot,

Succouring to soothe and ready the skies

For the unending duel every new dawn it saw;

He observed all in hypnotic silence,

He displayed not surprise, awe or shock

I was desperate to witness what he saw,

My voice ached to escape its confines

To beg him to describe his mind’s escapades

But I dare not ask him to recreate a requiem for his thoughts

For I know not if my hollow mind can bear their intensity

So for now, I document my narrow creation of his tale

And dwell in the serenity of fiction

Watching the waves roll, in their own figment of the immediate calm they see

And I rest my head on the shoulder,

Of my man who knew it all 


<strong>Mrinalini Raghavendran</strong>
Mrinalini Raghavendran

Mrinalini writes captivating poems and short reads. She is also an Indian classical dancer.

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