The Coldness of My Art || Poetry

The Coldness Of My Art

And The Warmth of My Heart

[This poem is based on a person who is wasting his time just thinking about how he has been robbed of everything. The moment he realises his mistake, he decides to look the world with a changed perspective.]

I have been understanding the splattering of rain
The unending darkness and the realm of pain

Even today, I sit lonely on this couch
Staring at the falling leaves and the emptiness of my pouch

The courageous fallen and the anguished heart
Burned with a fire, before it parted with the coldness of my art

Unlike the grace of the snow and the glow of the ice
My life has cornered to a world of my own, in which I now suffice

Watching the temper of the ants and the sturdiness of the trees
Gift me no inspiration but a moment of freeze

With no dreams to work and no motivations left
I do nothing but think of who was responsible for this theft

It was no one's fault, to be very precise
Though the theft was severe and the wounds were twice

The fear of falling again just keeps me on my couch
Wasting the whole day analysing the way I slouch

Today was different as I looked upon the days I rued
The truth was hard and the moment was rude

The depressing twirls and the losses I hurled
Were nothing in comparison to the vicious world

Now seeing with a changed perspective

Made even the ants and the trees highly effective

I could now smell the warmth of my heart

Getting apart from the coldness of my art

Promising once I stand, I will never slouch on that couch 

Or look at the falling leaves and the emptiness of my pouch

Now I think I understand the splattering of rain

The unending brightness and the realm of gain 

-Abhinav Srivastava

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