The best outcome of falling in love, for me, is that it helps me to write. Having said that, there is also this fear I have to shake : that at some point in time, that wonderful feeling will ultimately meet its end. You feel the compulsion to retain its essence so that you may relive it again some day, if you so choose.
For some long – lost reason, I named it :
In the Wane
The last rose withers away in the green
This night will glimpse a tear not seen
As spring dies with this last sunset-
Tomorrow will be the bleakest yet.
I lay my burden down on this cold ground
And wish on the stars, a rain earthbound
One to cool down the embers she left
Only one; to melt away the worries i kept
And me, myself with it, with the rain
Will find slowly, with the drops that drain
Bleed down the dirt, the weaving roots;
Become the dirt that the herbage loots
Feed the tree, the grass, and flower
And bear in silence as they devour.
Bloom a rose once too, I may, perchance-
By the river, and she might just glance
Come near, and reach- but no surprise ! She will turn, and I will too, to my demise The petals will lie withered on the sand Alive but for a touch of her hand.
( I know I have to work up on the meter and imagery and all…to name a few obvious faults )
..and I guess the flame died out after that. I have been really trying to write the rest…had many ideas to carry forward the story, but I reckon – a rain finally came. In fact, many – a hurricane, even.. I didn’t get to see much of her too.. so for now, i find solace in that old saying:
everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen, is for a reason,
and blame it all on karma and call her a bitch.
And to my friends who are still fighting in that holy war, a tiny bit of advice: This is what happens when you love someone for their skin. The skin isn’t all that mysterious -and- therefore, that less beautiful. But the mind, very much so. Beauty may age and fade away into time, but the mind stays forever young.
Choose wisely, young padawans.
Finally I fathom why she is, I am,
and why we cannot be – I’ve figured out.
I realize that she is – but – a reminder
of all that we life for, and die without.
A mirror on my mortality, a thorn
never pulled – as the pain’s too sweet.
Haunting you with a love forlorn,
Silent whispers of a sorry defeat.
Hope you like it 🙂