The Green Room

THE GREEN ROOM



Born into the world amidst bloody cries,

I felt the truth and freedom of nudity



But Oh! The time, the unfair teacher

Brought with him an ounce of acumen

But a gallon more of embarrassment

I covered myself with the first fabric

The one in the colour of the milky foam

Days of unadulterated innocence,

Evanescent tears, unbounded joy



Till the unfair teacher tore that away

And replaced it with another one

The one in the colour of my childish lips

Then, every moment was a question

every day a lesson and everyone a teacher

In Wonder, awe and pursuit of reasons



The quest for questions was quit as I

Stumbled on some answers, and

Chose to run away from the rest

Gathering all the ones I found,

I stitched my robe of liberation

The one in the colour of blood and passion

The one of incessant pride, emancipation



But the cruel rays of realism ruined my robe.

I had to choose an old replacement,

the one which I borrowed

The one in the colour of the ocean depths

The one in the colour of her deepest gaze

The colour of conscious commitment

The one that supported and fuelled my passion

The one full of never ending satisfaction



when I finally consummated that celebration

when my body became her fabric

I took to the dress of responsibility

The colour of tenderness and rawness

The days of unquestionable authority

Over my senses and my premises



As the insects of insecurities,

the staleness, the stagnation

Withered my dress of dreams and despair

I grew into a new robe of realization

The garment that bore the colour of age

And sometimes the senility

that came along with it.

the dress of demoralised dignity

I had stopped living then

Just merely, numbly existed

I transcended my ineffectual self

To the memories of the colourful past



Now as I bask again in nudity

feeling the bliss that it once offered

I wait for my last garment

The one in the colour of the darkest nights

The final one of them all

The eternal one of them all

The one that fits us all



A bard once called the world a stage

but mine has always been the green room

The one behind all the glitz and glamour

Where I found the right dresses

To cage up an animal

Where I saw and felt the multitude colours

amidst the beginning and the end

brutally sardonic but refreshingly realistic ,

The one sans script, sans act

Sans admiration, Sans applause