Architecture of Time |

Architecture of Time

The bend of a single twig,
A sea toppling over the horizon.

The sky is bent between my two palms.

I can sense the fumigation in all things;
The fumigation in my own chest. I just sit,

Sit and rock in the span of a single moment.
Nothing disturbs me here. Nothing but

My head and dancing elbows are allowed

In this endlessness of coagulated space.
The branches swoon

With tiny flowers– in love with their own mirages,
They spend years dreaming, dreaming

Of themselves in past and future.
The present like a rock swinging in between.

A single twig bends
Upon the cervix of air,

A kiss traveling in vapours. The flower
Settles like a daydream upon the brow,

And blooms, and blooms
With such ferocity, the colours of the day begin to hiss.

Only the awkward ear listens to this,
These bends of space and time. This architecture

Of time, this calligraphy of moments in space,
Backwards and forwards, the face

Of the entire day in a single drop of the eye.

← Aakriti Kuntal