There was misery and agony all around, Everyone was crying the blues with hands clasped, With body trembling, heart palpitating. Everyone was trying to engulf the grieve of the loss, Of the total loss of a loved one.
His spirit is going to meet the deity, He is going to heaven leaving this mortal bulk and The thirst of abundance of wealth. But he is leaving all the unforgettable relationships, leaving all the immortal memories, going to last till demise, with all of us alone.
But why to cry, when a loved one is going To meet the enormous supernatural being? When his spirit is going to meet the almighty, When he is leaving all these venial desires, all these Mortal thoughts, leaving this ill world.
Whether to cry our eyes out or to be full of the joys of springs? Whether to grieve or to rejoice on this event Of bonding among the spirit and the almighty? Whether to follow footprints or to make one?
gliding and sliding between two sheets of slippery translucent paper no friction, no traction, no adhesions no trace or footprint closing behind you as you pass you can live a whole life striving and trying but it's as if you were never there
Shadows play pirouettes in my soul and they reveal unwritten secrets, the taste of love is lost in a whisper.
I'd like to be your tough wool jacket that you wear in all the seasons, you hang me on the half-broken hanger only when you go to sleep in the middle of the night, then I smile at you in the morning when you take me out of the darkness.
I'd like to wear you like my favorite shirt made of mulberry silk with fine lace buttons, to feel you at my chest and dance with you the dance of the common days,
I'd like like you to be the nectar of the Manuka flowers from which I could feed for the whole year then I would fly in search of the sunset,
I'd like to be your footprint on the wet sand of the hot sea that would take me away in distant worlds, I'd like to…
How can it be that your words describe what I have seen? How can the words you write describe the path I have trodden? Bumps and hills, hurdles, smiles... how do you know them? Are my thoughts, experiences all so openly seen that you have access? Were you following, reading minds, perhaps spying or stalking? Even my thoughts and emotions in precise framing in your words. Are you me in some other form I have until now never seen? How can you understand me and know me when we have never met? You were not there when I lived these things. How can you know them? Our pathways in different lands, at different times and yet you write me. How can we share these footprints and yet never meet?