Poem: The Parallel

The truth. My heart is still beating in a parallel world. Then, I discovered my poet friend Priya there.

Poem: The Parallel

Time is an illusion. Perhaps, love is too.
The water that flowed along the river.
The train that went past my station.
The time when I am there, long after.

That way, everything that we perceive is.
Beyond a point, nothing makes sense.
Call it the event horizon, or the mind’s precipice.
Yet, one thing is true — this heart beats.

A backbencher in the class of common sense.
A blind creature searching for a black cat in a dark alley.
A defiant yet definite piece of existence, here and now.
Time or train, rivers or deserts — the heart beats.

Ten thousand pages later, an ever-after story happens.
Alongside, but alone, the parallel exists.
An undeniable, indelible, hard-coded parallel.
I am happy that it exists as my heart beats.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2025

Then I found Priya Patel, my friend loitering around and she caught me hiding.

It is there that you are hiding;
in this parallel space
where even lost loves are found,
where lines are not drawn,
and perfect shapes do not exist

Perhaps there is ruby encrusted
yellow brick road to get there
and there are no hidden or secret
voices anywhere
telling you what to do;
you can just be you

There is an emerald forest
with a secret passageway
that will take you straight
to yesterday
where an incomplete story
has a chance

And then there is
golden temple on a foam green river
where Beethoven is playing
and she is waiting for you there
Beautiful like the day you first met her
There are no voices here to silent you
just the gurgling sounds of bliss

Where will you go, I wonder
in this parallel world of perfection

~ ©️ Priya 🕉