MOHIT MITRA Poet Lyric

Interior Odyssey

—The Uncharted Demesne—

I garnered realms where every compass swore
Its final attestation unto land;
Each frontier vouchsafed passage to my name,
Each harbour loosed another weathered strand;
Yet all accession, faithfully bestowed,
Left one dominion still without abode.

At dusk a Curator veiled the patient globe.
Dust repossessed the empires one by one.
An atlas, opened where no witness looked,
Remembered coasts no mariner had won.
I closed the book. The silence remained spread.

At dawn a Customs Officer looked up.

"Your permanent abode?"

My passport reached my hand.

My tongue found none.

He stamped the page.

The barrier fulfilled its office.

Something else refused to be undone.

There stood beneath an unfrequented stair
 
A brass astrolabe forgetting north.
Without transition, agency, or cause,
Its needle entered silence and came forth
Bearing a latitude no chart could claim,
As though all bearings issued from one Name.

I touched my wrist.

The blood declined the hours.

It kept a deeper liturgy than breath.
Nativity resigned its bond with dust.
The Sepulchre diminished out of death.
No heaven widened.

Only this became:

The farthest universe had learnt my name
Because I had returned from whence it came.

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