A mere cosmic mistake? Nah! I must be a sculpture by some seasoned…
Relics of our love
Somewhere, some random night
in my random dream,
I sit under the tree
that stands beside a shallow pond
of pure water – fish, flowers and ripples.
I scratch my skinny soul.
I try to find someone
in the solitude of my dream;
I could find if we were two –
we are but one, what could I do?
Weary, heavy, suppressed with
the burden of your departure to my inner being,
I smile at my subversion –
rejoice the relics of our love in stones, leaves and walls.
by alok mishra