'Me' and 'Space'

Behold!
My foot steps....
Behind me
And before me!
Have I been here before?
No recollection!
Unawareness of a deepening Blankness.
A masked being?
Only but the ghostly steps,   

Here and there I see.
Was I here?
Me?
Or was it some one else?
Or some one else like 'Me'?
Whose foot steps are these?
And those?
And those too!
Where have I been?
Wondering?
Did I know the way,
When I passed this space?
Or is this the same place?
Was it the same 'Me' and same 'Space'
or
A same but different 'Me'
In the same but old 'Space! 

(But, is there some one really called 'Me'?)
Then,
Who ever and where ever I may be;
Do I know
Where I go, right now?
With my foot steps following me and walking in advance........
Here I am,
Standing and wondering,
Not accepting, 
or deliberately forgetting, 
With no attempt to understand........
That 'Lost' is the word that I should be applying!

For this invisible puzzle of 'Me' and 'Space'.

Blue and the Demon

Why Blue?

Who painted thee in Blue?

Are you really the Demon?

Or Caliban?

Painted in our eyes by Prospero?

Or Othello Perhaps?

Colour washed by the Dramatist himself!

Which one is blue?

I cannot tell you apart!

The demon, Caliban and Othello.

Blue or is it black?

The colour…..

Painting the bright Lucifer in dull Blue!

Being artistic I guess:

Just a different skin………….

Well…..All the Demons are Blue (or Black?)

Do I see any crudeness?

No…..guess it’s just my eyes.

On Parting.......

When you are in this deadly slumber,

Dressed in pure white

With pearls around your smooth neck:

Reflecting my tear drops.

I envy your white cloths,

Dim light and dark silence

Which have become closer to you

More than I had ever been.

Shameless jealousy,

Inside my poor heart;

About the milky silks

That have created a so long a gap

Between you and I.

When the shovels dig

In short black cracks,

The monstrous earth

Opens widely his reddish mouth

To drag in

The Only; the one and only source

That could lighten my soul.

Alas! Pardon me

For envying the slimiest worm

That will be on her smooth body:

Unlike me,

Struggling with our memories

Back home, all alone.

People drop in and out,

Some wonder how quickly she had gone.

And some more preaching

That once I myself have foolishly done.

But how hard it is……

When reality thrusts itself so hard upon one,

How hard when it dawns…..

How deep and painful is the wound.

Hail Brutus!

Thy Knife;

Its wrath and laughter,

Poisoned dictator blood.

Brutus,

In thy womb;

Blooms the child of equality,

Fathered by democracy.

Anthony! 

Thy words for a second,

Held the power that made Blinded Civilians

Lament His death; the justifiably unjust murder!

He stands for Empire not for Cleopatra!

The Empire fathered by an Emperor.

Thy murder;

The death of an Empire but freedom of an entire world.

I do not say "Y Thu Brute?"

But say; "You are Brutus!"