shared intimacies and a lonesome whisper
love that blooms and withers on cue
where no one is just your own
every moment shared with a select few
all travellers converge at one port
no one owns it, no one can claim to
his was a journey so defiant
he crossed the desert to arrive
another one swam across oceans
yet another bled his heart out
all converge at the mecca of their calling
and pray for the boons to be bestowed
It was long ago, but still it seems fresh
the blood is still hot as it was in veins
imagination riots in unimaginable directions
each one reason for his own misery
like the strings plucked in harmony
they weep the music of their souls
no other tribute will do
no other sacrifice will register