Thursday, 12 April 2012


No, I do not travel in the web page again,
It is painful in searching out an unidentified object,
That once rippled my heart, and then went out
Like a violent storm that filled tears in my eyes,
When I turned young, gaining age of fifteen, 
Sweetened in the context of love and honeymoons, 
And I got an exotic life.

-“Do you wait for me?” Once she said.

-“I can wait for rest of my life.” I replied.

-“Hmm..And then I have to think more about my life.” She said.

-“Why is it so, dear?” I said.

-“I fear about me. I have robbed myself.” She replied.

-“What is that? your web page gives me an illusion. 
Robbing yourself is your grief. 
And by saying so you mourn for the loss that you have. 
You cannot quantify difference between expectations and reality.” I said.

-“This web page gaining warm, 
It is history of my grief that I forget now.
I have sacrificed much of my life
In gaining love from wrong persons, 
And now I want someone to be mine.”
She replied.

And then she goes out of my sight,
These are two forms of loving, longing, for life,
I do not understand her, she perhaps finds someone else, 
Who provides her shelter, social life, and confidence.
I smell something important in her words, 
As I have habituated to know what she is meaning. 
Colors can be faded, breathing can be shortened, 
And like those which do happen in sinking voice
Of love, and these are the last words she posted 
On the wall of my web page. 

“Please be happy with your saintly living, 
I have checked your life's pattern, it is yours.
Invite me with love, if you can, otherwise, 
No haunting for me, dear.”

No comments:

Post a Comment