They say, you are different.
For me, you are that part of the sky
I call a kite.
You touch me every time, even though you don’t touch me.
I see something ‘blue’ in you, as you like
The twigs living on my balcony are ready
to be read.
You had inscribed them just a while
Now, the air has your words. It’s filled. I take some of it
That’s my capability, as walls are selfish.
At times, I hear you utter ‘gold’,
I wonder, if it’s a self introspection or a
and then, I see the horizon, in a discussion
Author’s Statement on Beauty
Beauty is an age old concept. This strong characteristic to provide an aesthetic eye pleasure concerning a strong impression is present in each and every entity. It has been acting as a precursor to feelings since thousands of years. The term ‘beauty’ has different origins in different forms but it brings a strange similarity in its origination, the similarity of ‘wondering’ which instigates the birth in the first place and this ‘wondering’ is quite ambiguous. Beauty is death after beauty has slept and beauty is life when death is awake. It becomes opposing when the ambiguity becomes a ‘one way’. It has been perceived by scholars, poets, artists in different ways and it has only got diverse over the course of time. Better, if not weirder. Beauty is again perceivable and non-perceivable. Non-perceivable beauty is either a saint’s eye or a caged eye. But calling everything beautiful is a perception too. Darkness or a blind man’s beauty is beautiful to some as one calls it darkness giving it a quality and not absolute nothingness. Nothingness is beautiful too as in it one gives blankness an identity and that is where seeking beauty of a particular genre is limiting. Perceivable beauty as we all know it, depends on the selective liking of an object based on its color compositions. Perceivable beauty also invites a lot of opinions and criticisms as the rose is red love and the rose is red blood and it’s both at the same time, right in front of you. As for me, I as a poet and an impartial observer try staying in the fullness of the ‘beautiful’ where I gather. It isn’t there in abundance and so one needs to accumulate if he or she believes in a family which saves itself from an opinionated destruction. I can’t lose it. It’s too scarce to be lost. Fear is today’s beauty and it’s only fear and hence, it’s very limiting and love which will follow as a dawn will be magnetic as well. There’s a saying, beauty was never lost until the day it was found.
Born on 1988 in a small town of Silchar, Assam, India. Daipayan Nair is a freelance writer/columnist, poet, fiction writer and essayist. His works have been published in The Poetry Breakfast, The Galway Review, Tuck Magazine, 1947 Literary Journal, Duane’s PoeTree Blog,and many others. He was recently awarded The 2016 Reuel International Poetry Prize. His first collection of poems,The Frost, was released last year. More at: Daipayannair.wordpress.com.