A bird crosses the sky the way a sad feeling
walks through this poem. Days when I had
several thoughts on living, they had lot to
do with you. Somewhere on earth geography
you’ve claimed a place holding the loose
definitions of time. Ex. the way you switch
off the room lights, you don’t find yourself.
I think of you and design my absence near you.
It is not an embroidered hanky in making. Instead
a goosebumped silence. Taking form of a
discontentment emerging from the sloppy
grandeur of cold marble inside study desk.
Yet, I reprieve their way back to lostness on a
four-way lane. Well… knowing their eloped
purpose status. As if the version of you and
I staring at the city-end river drifting as if it
had solved some mysteries of the cosmos.
From this great distance we couldn’t hear
the water sounds. But imagined how they
could be at this moment of time. The light
filling every scape. The river didn’t mirror
anything of us. But why, I felt a small boat
bobbing on its chest. A song rising from there.
Purpose is not known to many. I could sense
it for a millionth part of a second. And then
became oblivious to what I sensed. I couldn’t tell
you. Wet silence on the latitudes of my mouth.