Sense of an Ending

The sea was incessant 
For last four days.
Rushing, tip-toeing - 
It kept me company,
Uncannily knowing I 
Lost
Someone.

There is a warmth
In sands 
That soak in sunrise
And give in to sunset. 
One could bury his face
And find a comforting
Whisper.

Nights,
I would look at the stars
And reminisce our
Happy times.
There are hardly any patient listeners
than waves.
They keep coming back
To the same stories.

Weeks pass
And months wait.
People do not come back
But wind does. 

It is only then
Emptiness beams
And at times, comforts. 
In the midst of lonesomeness
One realizes - 
In the end, what is love
If not a little measure of loss. 

.

Comments

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You travel - Through unknown stations, passing empty paddy fields. over quiet rivers that rest beneath you. You bring a lot of earth along, And smell of mud, fish scales and trains. You whisper and scream, Put your nails in me, occasionally call it love. Other nights, we make peace. Strangely at dawn, When the Sun rises and you see me sleeping, I hear your whisper, you travel ... ... Deep inside me.

Together

I sit here to write An epic of love But words don't pay heed To my flowing senses. But what I write is about you. Who held the rain at her footsteps, Who could love the way Gothics shy And who can heal my scars Like I never had. And what I write is about me. Who drenched in the rain Like the raindrops, Who was loved the way He dreamt never. And who cried in the happiness beyond. So if ever the rain stops I would stand near you. If ever the scars anew I would feel your healing touch. If ever I don't sleep I would breathe you to sanity. On that rain soaked sands of Seashore And above the presence of lonesome moon, You would murmur the gentle song That I would echo in silence. And would pray, Somewhere,tiptoeing my wishes Dreams will rush up To another moment of blissful song offerings... SoUmY@

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Wish I could be a cloud one day I will love to be grey if its you To whom, through whom I traverse. Transparency is optimum; For I know you are unattainable like the sand escaping from the fist like the meaning assumed from the gist. look, oh yes, I can rhyme too. If you wish I can artify our world. Inspiration never needs a permit. You had asked, Why do I vomit blood. Interruptions in dreamy un-realism doesn't suit me. I know. So I write. So that I can breathe you in and breathe dreams out. Live long, you had wished. (Wished), did you? honestly? I will let it pass like just another Failed attempt to face reality Finds itself en-route to contamination. Oh! then what is pure? you may ask. Purity is not you, not me, but us. Purity is the way verses traverse. I will vomit to death one day. Do not pray for me. Pray for my poems who are quiet. Let them borrow my breaths. Let the poetry for us live. (And the footnotes conclude:) You - a miser in love Me - a happy lender. SoUmy@

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