Love Is Not Clasping Love
A Aniruddha Pathak
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He stood thinking by the receding roar
Of a frothing, surfing tired shore,
Reflecting on her good-bye kiss in air,
That had fragrance of her unspoken
Love; but her vacant un-looking stare,
With his far too loud goodnight broken,
Caused him to wonder if he should deem:
His happy days with her were just dream.
Dream—lingering long on crossroads of dilemma
That had been his life’s unfolding drama;
Worried, his hope might fade away
Soon, much like this receding low tide,
That, departing, leaves a hollow beside,
Catching him unawares midway,
He wondered if life that on face does seem
Mighty real, is a virtual dream.
He waited while the sun upon his dream
Set, and grey of his grieving eyes looked grim,
He gathered some dry golden sand
From a dune that he had ere made,
Holding it tight in fisted hand,
Watching it slipping from his clasp instead;
The truth while gleaned well within grasp:
‘Love is not love if one must clasp! ’
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-Musings | 01.09.09 |
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