The Real.

             In a mist,
          I mistook two stones for beads.
          It was my maiden mishap;
          A melee of my dreams
          Down loaded by my hallucination.

         In a fit,
         Bulldozed by my past,
         I chased shadows in a mystic race
         Tracing my tardy descent
         In a tenacious march.

         In a trance,
         Tranquilized by tender flashes,
         I knelt before the nailed form,
         That blocked the nameless storm
         And buried my groundless blues.

                                            P.Chandrasekaran.