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.