A room in the world

Supposing that the room is the universe,
The whirring fan above my head,
An Absolute, defying description,
Making Hegel turn in his arrogant grave-
And the words in numbers
Are the waves of an inherent vice,
Spreading curses along parallel worlds-
As the spreadsheet of time is ripped to shreds,
Allowing the ridges of space,
And the genitals of the universe,
To lock in a fierce carnal expression
of love,
hate
and passion!

And the light-
White in its burning agony,
Covering the dirt and dust of the room,
And the cannibal cells that live
Within me-
Building civilizations
Of decay and death,
And utopian worlds
That collapse in satisfied bliss
Of smoke and earth!
That light
Splinters out of existence
Trying to reach darkness.

To think,
What a tragedy…

– Shakya Bose