Poetry 2012 Shortlist, Varsha Apte

Amber Brew

The coloured lights on the rooftop flicker-shifting and changing track,
Strong and steady is the illumination beneath them,
My gaze, though, is from those crimson blinking beacons unwavering,
Brought to the brink, I must decide, while conflict reigns deep inside.
Decisions to be made and new paths to wisely tread and experience,
Minds to find counsel and haven.
The choice is to be made and the alternatives narrowed,
It's the start of a new day and a journey must I embark upon,
The stage is set, the props assembled and the actors know their part.
Left to me the performance is,
The spectrum is wide but the choice must be made,
The nagging hand of indecision spells collapse,
The clock's ticking and my mind cannot miss a beat.
Ideation, in the womb of erudite is tempted to play Chinese whispers,
Chided is it gently by the baritone of self-control,
The gauntlet is thrown down and a challenge sought,
The urges primitive are suppressed by the iron hand of that Master controller of the mind prongs numbered three.
The crimson of the lights is getting warmer,
Its strength steadily imparting me strength,
The ticking gets faster,
My thoughts caramelized with aplomb are taking form,
The stage is set, the stage is set,
The curtain rises,
The beacons guiding me, I rise emboldened,
The magic is born,
I must perform.