Burning the Bonfire

A parched land, thirsty bird, worn wild, hungry beggar, This heart of mine yearns and pines for something better; Fresh orchids, love birds, content wild, happy humans, Yet, in such paradise, would one find no nuance? An empty space is void, indeed, physically, It's blue-black-space contained in all - mystically; It's 'dark night of the soul' psychologically, It's salvation par excellence - religiously... This is no pessimism nor nude rude negation, It's, for me, a search for meaning -truth probation; Like the parrot pecks the mango's interiors, Yet not intending to hurt its exteriors... It's not seeing gloomy dead darkness in the tomb, It's witnessing a precious soul in the tomb's womb; It's the holiness of the highest form and state, It's nothing determined by the hate-bait of fate... Void, sometimes, like the death-filled fearful mind of threat, That, like nightmares or phantoms, do great frights beget; Absurdity and nothingness when poison lit, Its purity gets aborted; its throat gets slit... Void is subtle and needs to be handled with care, It's like burning the bonfire yet not getting flare; If we learn to see void like our marriage banquet, We'll be blissful! Not spiritually bankrupt! "Empty yourself to fill the void with love (Debasish Mridha) 10 August 2021 The Void Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker