The Rhymes of a Lover

The air is sharp as windy spirits howl at my door.

And the sky is soon overcast with every cloud being lured,

To thaw loud enough to deafen, and blind as it turns black from azure.

I recognize the familiar conspiracy: “Many a battle was fought on sunny days,

But lovers always have only the tempests to grace.”

It’s the hour, the pendulum tells me. You’d say it’s not wise,

But I’d go as promised, for a man is sized

To his little finger if love can’t make him rise.

I’ve gathered some blossoms for her as you see it lying there!

A lovely corsage to rest on her vibrant ginger hair!

Forgive me for being dandy, but a little powder is a want

A man must always look at himself—make additions to his charms!

Before he suitably takes his place in his lady’s arms!

I see, you’ve been looking at my stump. Yes! I am maimed.

Because Sir, they always punish the body, if souls are untamed!

Since you’ve stayed so long, I guess you’ve been hearing of my melody,

I sing not of wars, strife or heroes---that’s a capital perjury!

I play the cries of new-borns. Not of wounds but recovery!

I quench that innate thirst- to be, to have and to make enough,

In celebration of your being! Sir, I sing of love.

You can’t hear it today for I am in haste. You see, she’s on road.

It’s of no use to reason, to dissuade and goad

Me to not to go!  For me of all the men, you can’t hold.

Many a man has died of sickness, wounds and scourge.

I’ll end best! Sir, there’s no greater glory than to die of love.

I do not sing of dividing of rivers and, more,

For they can’t divide waters but divide oars.

Nor we would ascend to heavens, or examine sores

Of the sinned spirits. It is too great to talk of death.

And so am I for my fame would in the living rest.

Oh! So you wish to accompany me? Then,

Let’s go! She says that I don’t have enough friends.

The introduction with you, would make some amends.

She’ll know that I have not abandoned the world.

Though Sir, I believe, she’s for me, one soul enough.

Be careful and wade through the water! It’s slyly seeping through our feet

You see that fence across! There, we had our first meet.

Our eyes met, cheeks blushed, and then the smiles would greet,

There after each other.  It was there that I came to recognize

That she didn't worship my god, and forever kept that recognition tossed aside.

The music that you hear is from that corner-----by that lone tree!

The merriest place, I knew! It was the shed for many of our clandestine sprees.

 For lovers are nowhere happier than in bed---- it now sings an elegy.

I see you raise brows. You must be an Indian—denying but rough!

My friend! Love without desire is as degenerate as desire without love.

Look, we have come to the square.  The tempests still rage,

And if you look at the sky Sir, it’s not likely, in anytime, to assuage.

Do not mistake the anxiety on my visage.

I fear not for me, but with deepening of darkness, she’d be terrified,

She is alone and lonely, and I must run to be there to pacify.

Ah Sir! Come see, this was where I gathered her after she broke into pieces,

Into my arms.  And declared, of all for me, she is it

The heavenly apple, courteous banana and deceptive peaches!

Love Sir, though it unites, is a plural.

It is tactile, loud and above all, preconditioned to be mutual.

We have reached. Just a walk more! But I see you are unclear,

Oh it is just the lightening that wears

One’s courage. C’mon! Jump over the fence and come here.

But seeing his companion shocked and paralyzed

He abandoned him, and moved alone towards the graveyard, on his right.

He mutely watched as a pathetic soul walked upon those yellow pestilence-stricken paths,

He saw him sit down as he placed the wreath, and end his pilgrimage,

As the blades of fallen leaves were carried away, the timid moon read her epitaph:

“Love is neither death nor life,

Neither unbroken peace nor continuous strife,

It mounts from little to reach much,

For love is to live with and for something, which death can touch.”