At the Edge of the Cosmos


First, a poem. It’s a poem I wrote about fifteen years ago.  I was undergoing a psychological turmoil at that time.  There was a longing for escape with a simultaneous knowledge that any real escape of the kind I wanted was impossible except in death.  And I did not want to die yet.  So I wrote poems.  It was one of the escapist measures I resorted to. 


            The cosmos ends there:

            Beyond the gravitational field

            Of this planet is vacuum

            Where the Absolute sits in modesty

            Watching the cosmic machine turn

            As Heisenberg watched the electron:

            The consciousness that creates

            As it watches what it creates.


            Into that infinity of nothingness

            Let our souls awake, my son.


            Our rocket cannot penetrate

            The barrier between matter and vacuum

            The chasm between Dives and Lazarus

            Return we should to the earth

            And learn to wait: Wait

            For the wingless flight

            To where light shines

            Without a thing to burn.



I was reminded of this poem when I read in today’s [Nov 28] Times of India that a planet (Gliese 581g) with liquid water and probably life has been discovered. The report also says that many other such planets are possible.  There may be life on many planets out there. 


Will poetry take me to such a planet now?


Most probably, no.  I don’t write poems now.  I can’t write poems now.  Is it because the poetry in you gets strangled by life’s experiences?  Or is it because poetry happened to be just a temporary escapist measure in my life?  There’s nothing to escape from now? 


There’s nothing to escape from once you learn to accept the reality…  Yet I’m really not happy that poetry has abandoned me.


About matheikal

My more regular blog can be accessed at
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to At the Edge of the Cosmos

  1. Raghuram Ekambaram says:

    “poetry has abandoned me.” nice way to blame the innocent!

    I am very sure the stuff is overhead transmission for me, no low hanging fruit it is! Do you miss writing poems, why don’t you start again? If you don’t why do you blame poetry? I can feel that yo are saying something, but I haven’t a clue.



  2. matheikal says:

    Poetry writes itself, I think, Raghuram. You can’t write poems by your choice, just as one can’t choose to become a sculptor or a dancer – the sculpture chooses you, so to say.

    I’m sure I have confused you more. So let’s leave it at that.

  3. deepazartz says:

    “Return we should to the earth
    And learn to wait: Wait
    For the wingless flight
    To where light shines
    Without a thing to burn.”

    Loved these lines… something I totally agree. I often think along these lines and then get totally confused on many associated issues and feel if only there had been some Guru who could clear me off all my inner turmoils:) I understand writing as an escapism since I have done that many a times…

    • matheikal says:

      I’m glad you found the lines meaningful.

      I don’t know how much a Guru can help us. One of the principles in psychological counselling is that the counsellor should not give answers; he/she should only ask questions so that the answer comes from the client. No other answer is valid. The answers to our problems lie within ourselves.

      It was indeed a pleasure to see you here.

  4. Pen & Life! says:

    Beautiful Poem! 🙂

  5. Jose D.Maliekal says:

    Dear Tomichan,

    Poetry cannot abandon you. Poetry is you…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s