Melancholia drapes the gaze 

Like a loosely crocheted curtain,

fluttering,

at an open window

letting in the rain .

Wet, clammy 

discomfort,

yet sadly refreshing,

a weak urge 

to avoid the damp, 

A punitive craving 

for the drizzle.

I want it, 

I hate it.

It gives  pause 

to time

… all unnecessary motion.

And let’s the heart 

ruminate a while longer,

as the minutes stretch 

drearier

and time gains 

an elasticity 

in proportion 

to the gaze 

that grows weary 

watching speedy thoughts 

bolt like lightning.

Not a muscle relents.

It’s all a study in contrasts,

this debilitating lethargy of the soul

trying so hard to cease caring, feeling…

.

.

.

This is more a study of melancholia than ennui; boredom can be warded off stimulating distractions or activity. I have been exploring the concept of ‘Tamas’ and the three Gunas as delineated in Ayurveda.

The concept of Tamas as a melancholic soul inertia and how it contributes to the elasticity of time intrigues me, and a poem can help construct a vivid description.

We are all visited by melancholy and depressive thoughts every once in a while and this is no weakness. Poetry is an engaging medium to try and help transcend ‘tamas’ rather than push away negative thoughts or even force oneself to be momentarily excited through sensation driven distractions.