Attic
By Amita Ray

A hallowed space
defying cascading scars of time
petering to twilight’s phantom path
holds me in place.

Here I inhale sacred dust of deep truth, my eyes
rinsed with the artless glory of dawn
a shield to trespassing encounters
which like oblique unforeseen shadows
peep through window, challenge compromise
make mockeries of depths I seek.

Here a voice seraphic serenades
in honeyed cove of perpetual rapture
i take refuge in its unspoilt cadence
distance myself from waves lashing
trodden footprints, to a shelter
rooted in apex of existential core.