Magma

I failed
yet again,
couldn’t utter
the words
I have longed
to say
since I don’t know when,
perhaps since my birth,
or may be
since the day
the very first human,
opened his eyes
here in this
world of existence
but to this day
I never could say

There’s a chasm
an insulator
doesn’t let the thoughts
get across
unless
they are mould
into words
spoken words
precious thoughts
enveloped within words
or they’d disperse!

But i can’t speak
something hinders
what’s that something?
words are accumulating;
this lava
needs to be hauled out
but the crust is hard
the peak
severed by ego?

Or else
the magma
is solidifying
within me
blocking my pulses
and if this
keeps on
one day
it will be rock solid
inside me
no more random motion
of liquid emotions
piercing thoughts,
there would be
absolute rest
but does rest
symbolize serenity,
or death?