Chaos is a beautiful language,
beautiful, only because it slips along my tongue with such ease,
otherwise it is just a reminder that
we can be everything
and nothing all at once,
which is to say that
I am the cause
and the despite,
a million possibilities
materialising into nothing.
Chaos is a beautiful language,
beautiful, only because it prods along my lips
with such pride,
otherwise it is a morning
that begins with a prayer
to shatter my existence and keep it together
at the same time,
in moments vulnerable and gullible,
especially when I am just an inch from forfeiture.
Chaos is a beautiful language,
beautiful, because there is room for reflection,
even when the windows are louvred,
otherwise, it is cautiously wile,
a truth and a mirage,
the familiar aches of the past,
which is to say that
I am coherently
living a lie,
and every moment of truth is another prejudice
I can’t get past.
Chaos is a beautiful language,
beautiful, because it allows me to touch horizons and
create piece after piece of poetry,
otherwise it suggests
peace nowhere,
not in opinions,
not in their shadow, not in the heart on my sleeve,
not in desolation,
nor in the strongest or the most fragile of beliefs.
Chaos is the beautiful happiness
being sold along streets,
a life that runs in circles, which means I
burn and burn and burn —
and carefully, continuously turning into melancholy.
There is comfort in knowing this pain and its
prejudices,
there is comfort in burning a sunset,
there is comfort in basking in the streets of my quintessence
in love, in desire, in passion, in chaos-
in being everything, again,
and nothing, again —
all at once.
— To Banaras, the beautiful chaos that lives along my fingertips, and that is pegged on the contours of my palm lines.
Tu ban jaa gali Banaras ki,
Main ghaat ban jaungi.
Akshita Sharma is a medical student from New Delhi, India. She loves art in all forms and absolutely loves to write.
Featured image: Jené Stephaniuk / Unsplash