And, that question,
Will linger in my mind, forever
Till my existence is being questioned.
Why?
Why couldn't he accept?
He knew I went across my lengths,
I widened my horizons,
I let my soul cry, for you.
He knew how hard it was and still becoming harder..
But I've crossed all tides, just to be with you.
To rest my tiring soul in you.
Knowing all, still he never knew..
He never tried to even.
Today, it seems, I stopped letting things bother me, furthermore.
I can't fake now, truth has made its way out.
Why couldn't he accept?

See, the clay pots, yes those that the potter makes.
How brittle they are, aren't they?
They slide, and go to the edges,
And that hand of potter, that beautifully shapes them up.
Now hold on, that's where I've to speak.
The hand not only shapes it, it supports.
The same support, which from the earth, make it firm.

Dear, I wasn't that brittle even.
But, now no more.
I think, I carry the most fragile of hearts in the world..
It breaks, and cries so often.
And, you have it, for sure.
To your words, your voice, your smile,
It dances with the lilies in joy,
Sings the tune of the nightingale,
And make merry notes,
And the same, my heart,
At times, so different, it roars in my soul like the thunder,
And tears apart, my heart and soul,
Then it walks the way, with the shower that drizzles in monsoon.
Its strange, for us, anyway,
Because a rain in desert,
Yes, it does, in mine,
Rain in desert..!