Goddess, such a relegating term But then again, How do you abridge someone Who embodies universes inside? How do I, a mere wanderer, who is in awe of your luminous wit Who has traversed her terrains, Strolled from the glacier Though her well carved volcanoes Down to her meadows where, Her majestic rivers meet and form conflux. Where her flower continuesly disperse The elixir of eternal life, When it is kindled by the desire. How could i, a mere nomad Who continouesly crave this water of life Who is always seeking this fountain, do you justice, And encapsulate you, the infinite beauty, In one word, Except for the relegating term Goddess, That my petty mind could come up with.
Our eyes entwined together, Whilst my fingers appreciate her curves. With each touch runs a ripple, Down her spine and beyond. Her fingers swirl around in my hair, Complementing them, For the maze they are. My existence buried in hers, Striving to keep its identity, Craving the honey dripping down her ***. Her existence drowning in mine, Like its hit by a thousand tsunamis, All at once. She tries her best to keep it all down, Hide the obvious tell-tales of glee, Her burning cheeks and scarlet smile, Her twinkling eyes and dry lips, But her sporadic breaths are telling the tales. Revealing the secrets of the ecstatic sin.
What was our love, If not just an other Shakespearean tragedy? An other story of tragic heroes cursed by their fate, Struggling to exist within their characters. You, facing the external conflicts from family. Me and my internal conflict (of not being courageous enough). Our tragic loss of our selves and each other, Thanks to the diabolical supernatural elements, Playing their own characters in the play. The lack of poetic justice, causing a poor end to the tragedy. And in the end a comic relief, through the humorous character of time it self.
Tell me again, What was our love, If not just an other Shakespearean tragedy?
I suppose i was confined to darkness For a wee bit of a time. But they say the light comes, The things change, And the darkness loses. And maybe it is true. But i wonder if darkness Really loses to the light. Then why it always leaves a shadow behind?
Some where between the perpetual isolation that we created in the name of personal space. The wounds that were never healed, Because they never received the ointment of attention. The misunderstandings That pilled up into a giant rumpus, And ignited the dubious disposition, turning the intimate conversations into constant fights. The love that we lost, To the demonic darkness of our egoistic nature, Still exists, But only in the fragments Of some moth-eaten memories.
Isn’t it incredible? How i fall in love With a different thing Every day. Yesterday, it was your laugh. Today, it is your memory. And tomorrow maybe, Just maybe, It would be our communion; Beyond the shackles of worldly ordeal.