As I sat on the bridge,
and the water gushed under me,
peacefully they slept , the violet lilacs,
the leaves rustled in the breeze…
the owl’s hoot fainted in the distance,
and the full moon shined above,
sprinkling the forest with white light .
But in me…
the melody of separation ached my heart. .
I felt as though she was there,
my hands clasped in hers.
I stared at her eyes ,
her tears dazzling in the silvery light;
the eerie stillness of the night ,
did waver by her silent smile .
The mist hovered about ,
and the winds sang a lullaby ,
rocking the daisies to sleep.
We strolled down the bridge,
not knowing what to utter .
Walked into a clearing , did we …
as the trees gave way ,
to the glistening and striding light.
The light danced on her with joy,
but , I saw her tears
tearing my heart …
I felt as though ,
she was there with me .
Not an illusion or imagination.
And yes, I could feel her hands in mine,
I could see her tears .
She brisked away..leaving me alone ..
and she stood there, at a distance .
Her face glimmered with a smile..
like a thousand rainbows
She smiled again,
this time her smile touching the
chords of my heart.
I ran to her , my mind craving for her….
but she …
She was not to been seen.. .
The moon hid behind the dark clouds ,
the winds howled loudly,
the hyena’s cry echoed all around ..
the leaves and twigs fought in the winds ….
And my eyes wandered about ,
searching the darkness,
for a ray of hope n love …
The bridge stood empty,
in the midst of everything..
as I stood snatched away,
from the world of my love n life..
feeling alone n lonesome..
The darkness stretched vast;
with her , nowhere to be seen …
Across a bare branch ,
in a tree far across …
hung a lonely, tender leaf ,
struggling with the winds …
As the battle grew fierce ,
the appalling winds …
pulled the leaf off its branch…
The leaf writhed with agony and pain..
as the gusts of separation,
carried it away n away..
to where it would return ….
A randomly chosen Homo sapien. Never a pessimist, but not an inclined optimist too. A little of an introverted self-observer. Thoughts go buoyant. And these buoyancies wander with no destinations or haven; leaving no trials behind. Time does seem to be enough but the “enough” sometimes starts ceasing. Tendencies shift; perceptions change; clumsiness gathers; but the basic instinctive saturations surface from the depths when its time. You can find Samjoth’s blog, here.