A STAIRWAY TO NOWHERE
I want to dream
A forever dream
In a world
You'd feel at home
Where the laws of time
Are abstract
Just the two of us, alone
On a trackless train together
Racing to the sea
On a stairway to nowhere
Under skies crying rain
Running to find shelter
On a pathway through the trees
Just to see you laughing
Things that cannot be
I never told you
I noticed
The silent mornings, so withdrawn
I never told you
I noticed
Your hand slipping from my palm
I never told you
I noticed
The endless ticking of the clock
I never told you
I noticed
How you'd sit by and watch
I never told you
I noticed
Every second, but it seems
Everything I wanted
Only possible in dreams
I put my arms around you, your heart melts into mine;
the borders of your anguish I can easily define.
There is no need for language explaining agony,
I perceive a griever’s heartache in black telepathy.
Your landscape is familiar, I know one similar
in the trackless barren places, in the lonely city spaces
where people neither know nor care.
I gleaned shriveled fruit from withered vines,
crushed, distilled, and drank the acrid wine.
I climbed the treeless summit, trekked the tundra of despair,
heard the mountain winds dark harmony
to a mourning mother’s keening prayer.
I know because my heart has heard
within its depths your soundless words.
Copyright, July 11, 2026
Night, friendly night
On lone walks past
Whom I've divulged, through no ' boo!'
My secrets to
Enfold me now
Low-boughed for pine.
A moonless grove's! Trackless sought;
Midst airs, o'erwrought.
Friend, spouse! To hide
Each fright away.
Day-faced, when at me glaring
World, felt odd in .
Some places
make you shudder
as your night train toils on by.
Sadness and nostalgia
bleed into each other,
both slip down the throat of time.
Now and then, you escape a prison
looking back, you see a gate locking
itself once more.
Time gulps as it breaths you in.
This is what the night train does,
it forces you to look at your journey
as if through an ever-fading light.
You wish you were back,
lightly hovering over sharks,
not bungy jumping
over veracious mermaids,
however, there is no stopping,
you are a night train
on a trackless way
and the rain is pounding
you through,
now only distant streetlights
reveal
the smudged print
of your passing
I learned many things from him ...
That the trackless path
is gifted
to those
who believe
That the distance
between thoughts
can only be connected
by words
That the idea itself
is worthless
without the thing
it expressed
That tomorrow
is no more important
than yesterday
or today
That the bullfighter
must never die
with the bull
still alive
That revolution
is the truest place
where death
is reborn
That real courage
is only measured
by the one
sorely lacking
That to love her once
is better
than to love
her again
That you must
when you must
until the bugles
have stopped
That worshipping
oneself
is life’s fatal
devotion
That the jungle
we chase
is the jungle
we live in
That the willingness
to say it
frees a willingness
to act
That each great new
adventure
begets a greater
new ending
That in the tears
of a stranger
bleeds the heart
— of a friend
(Key West: January, 1994)
Signs that might be seen as omens
send me on my way
the daylight waning for today
and luck still virgin on display
flying close to danger’s coven
The wind blows fortune’s empty cast
as trackless dreams setout
dispelling hope and bringing doubt
without a name to even tout
caught within tomorrows fast
I see each warning clearly now
they speak much like a friend
whose words as tokens try to bend
rushing blindly toward the end
captured voices left to bow
Those signs that led me all point down
the road is changing fast
no clear distinction first from last
my future damned to be my past
— the devils fiddle calling loud
(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: February, 2024)
Fighting against external enemies is natural.
Isn't my fight against myself a Herculean task?
Desires and drives that decrease me into an animal
In my predicament, my consciousness is in a mask.
Values and valuations, like heroes and villains, fight
Benumbed by existential angst, I resign to the fate
My conflicts between power, peace, and patience reach their height.
The poles of physique and psyche pull off in a hate state.
Discord between desires and deceit, like lane dividers
Divert my inner equilibrium from its axis
Even thick kith and kin seem out of the blue outsiders.
There's no logic between my philosophies and praxis.
As though unbridled, my horse of existence runs trackless.
I run fight battles within and lose hapless and helpless.
I wander in a trackless desert
Eyes squinting, scanning the desert horizon
Parched land, and so does my heart seem
Oh where could I find an oasis to cool my feet
Desert storms blow, I close my eyes
Some shadow approaching me
What is it, my love gone by?
The wind whistles, nay it is a fortune teller
Her wrinkled face smiles, hands me a card
What is it? A camel print?
Says she, it is a symbol of love
You will have a second chance
I safely hide the card within the folds of my diary
15 years have since gone by, the print faded
I look at the man by my bedside
My fortune cookie, I inwardly smile
Open the clasped and ancient doors!
There are mountains of footage
to peruse.
Thousands of long years to sift through.
Who did what or who did nothing
are of great import - apparently.
Who was that fellow
and why did we follow?
That despot killer
where was his karma?
We must seek clues in the dust of ages.
Pages must be read and scrutinized.
Order and reason sought
for we are nothing
without a history that teaches us.
Yet, here there are just trackless words,
statements, records,
testament's from blind witnesses
and towers of hearsay.
How to proceed?
Should we file away the sane
and burn the insane
or will the sane in the end
drive us into insanity?
Somewhere at the very bottom
of a mute pile
wise men have been muffled
have dried-up under layers of faded ink.
Dig on must we?
Or should we close those rotted doors
and walk away on new bought shoes
recording only our steps
leaving no signs on unmapped paths?
They are dragging the funeral
And conferring their itch
With dreams to fade foe
These are the lion-hearted heroes of mother earth
They are walking on the roads of thrones
Where entry and exit is to god
With ardent desire to protect each and every soul
This is the uniform of our real heroes
Their fight is trackless
Their enemy is reckless
Their effort are countless
May this valarous fate recives the stoke of luck
They are platting mortal for humankind
These are the real protagonists
May they receive the strength to ushere
The mankind to the robust world
NAYAN SHRIMAL
A trackless wind scatters his mind
leaves fly away where no leaves are.
A hummingbird inside his chest drums,
the evening is escaping down roads
long plowed over with remorseless change.
It never used to be like this;
he had once been the bold pirate of his fate
his ship sailed away one day only to return in flames.
Sometimes you have to shrug,
keep walking around a small municipal park
until a parked car follows you home
The city will swallow its many tongues
then bury its hummingbird mind
until the dawn
retrieves a life once more.
cosmic landscapes adorning the mind scene
pass through fine nerves and fingers ---
scripts on slates and papers
shadowy sketches scribbled secretly
by unknown master artist ---
on human heads and hearts
if read well they give meanings multiple
wedding must be read wedding ---
pudding should be pudding
cries and shouts of expression formed them once
they are pearls and jewels now ---
humans choose what they want
waves of oceans easily wipe them off
when written on seashore sands ---
trackless are their images
26 March 2022
Begins from the unknown caves,
Waxing and waning till graves;
Progresses journey; squints, slants,
Through rough rocks and softest sands...!
In its silent secrets, sweet,
Trifles turn tough; targets treat;
Trackless trails merrily merge,
Rivers and rivulets surge...!
Dearly deemed destinations,
Ease endless explorations;
To pilgrims of perfection,
Peace propels pure protection...!
I'll stay patiently trusting,
Each step to God entrusting;
I'll, my journey, enjoy whole,
Gaining solace to my soul...!
21 March 2022
Form J - Just Write Me a New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
plows through thick forests
paves paths betwixt barren lands ---
darkness left trackless
04 March 2022
H Forms - Traditional Nature Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I think love requires
little more than willing –
if doors and windows
are closed and shuttered,
fresh air and sunlight
cannot find a healing sliver –
but slightly ajar, light and
warmth begin to restore
blessed comfort-places –
For love is truly mystical,
transcending logic and
all reason; outpacing Time
and Space's trackless, furthest
distance –
we are born for fondly dreaming
our heart's cravings, when properly
in tune, likened to the silvered
strings of angelic harps –
Men may try to take all joy from life...
But God has The Last Word – which is
always, Love!
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