The waiting

Art can caress, but does it speak?
Words cannot tame, but gravely hit.
As the rock of the world is founded on a butterfly's wing-
I wish I could say I am tired of waiting!!

The Jacobin Cuckoo, hallucinates the prospering smoke-
Tirelessly in every sky, for water she does evoke;
As I wander sleepless through this nightly pounding,
If only I could say I am tired of waiting !

I saw needle and vein engage in a kiss,
That would lead to ruin , not permanent bliss-
Even, for all the nights, I was scorched to the pain of loosing;
I could never say, I was tired of waiting!

I saw the bright truth, behind the veil of death's bride;
And death row's ragged strangers crucified-
If love is symbolised with a fancy red heart- does that heart stop beating?
So, why do they complain , they're tired of waiting?

I saw the face of love, embrace the Rose union-
The patient farmers, sweating in famine's dungeon,
A sleepless eye, can never lie, the pain of tireless blinking-
As it searches for respite , never tired of waiting!

Yes, I stared into eyes of love and hate,
Yet, most carried the cross of cruel fate-
If love is a fire, in the darkness of life; shall it stop flaming?
I wish I could find a flame for me waiting!

The Dove does descend from the sapphire blue skies;
To show us, all is one and all is free-
Can a son ask his mother to delay her dying?
If only he could, he would not be waiting!

The April rain heals in verdant springtime,
Like the poignant whispers of love sublime.,
Oh ! The intellects, the supremo mammals, can you for once stop mating?
And free that albatross, as an ancient mariner is waiting.

And I realise in the Rose pink dawn-
There is only a brief light between two dark eternities,
As I numb my senses, to love's thrill and wailing,
I wish for me, there's someone waiting!!