He moved ahead leaving a trail
Of incomplete poetry
And then jumped on to other paths
Where he was able to leave
Articles, sketches, thoughts,
And lots and lots
Of priceless creative clutter.

He left behind
Words that could have been friends
Or leaders or lovers
They could’ve given the world
His world
A new direction.
So his words decide not to wait for him to stop
Turn back
And start completing…
They begin their slow march
To besiege and beseech him
To start completing them
Before they died.

As he slowed down he could
Look up. And he saw
Dim-witted buffoons
Hobbling towards him
From all directions. Did he
Drunkenly travel in circles
All these years? Was this the force
He was trying to create? Could he
Simply close his eyes and wish them
All away? Couldn’t he just start afresh?

He could close his eyes
But couldn’t wish them away.
He was, after all, a wizard of words
And he conjured up shredders.
But this increased their number
And the sound of their bawling rose
Until it shattered his ear-drums
And the shredded thoughts and poems
More incomplete but sharper
Now tried to enter through his eyes.

The battered creations,
All of them,
Had no choice but to enter
This dictator of words
Through his bleeding eyes
And stay there,
Until a real wizard
Came along to
Reconstruct them into
What they were meant to be.


Featured image credit: Barbo333