It All Ends at Adi Ganga : 01/28
Isn’t it beautiful, to die by your side;
I wonder in spaces tranquil.
These boughs sway less,
Whisper hopeful nothings,
I render these places desolate.
Neither archaic, nor amorphous
These trees know not of my love
It was certain, and bloomed as such,
Could burn these twigs to mulch.
Enamoured, I am the antithesis
To the seer who never trusts.
I hark in vain, my heart as it sinks
These leaves don’t call your name
They try to caress me, kiss my face
Poke my eyes, draw blood anyway.
So I stand at an arm’s length
Closer to the steady river
They say much of the Ganges
I doubt if she can deliver.
I’m aware of her downstream
The waters tell me I’m warmer
Why even twigs here
Float to your shores,
Surely she’ll carry me over,
Be it as yours, or simple mulch.
To decay as nothing
Or with eyes opened wide
I wonder how come
That pleasure isn’t mine.
