Looking at the opposition we face,
We don't get it even a bit!
Surprised at how most of the world,
Treats the lovers as aliens!  
But we are happy being aliens,
Astonished they will be
~~~~

Watching at their angry faces ,
We wonder what crime we have done!
Stunned we are ,
They call us mad
But we are happy being mad,
Astonished they will be
~~~~

We will come to collaborate,
In every single stage of life,
They will see our love,
They will start believing in love,
And then too,
Astonished they will be!

Poems move in currents
changing speed and
splitting ways,
and we watch.
The rolling faire,
the words they share
leave beauty behind,
ignorant,
understood by one;
intentions only guessed
while images we digest
from origin unknown.
We read, we take,
we contemplate.
But unless traversing upstream,
over boulders,
holding rocks,
growing tired as we near the point of pain
we never see its start.
The water breaks through stone,
alone...
And where,
only the poet knows.