How is there no water on the moon?
And so much on Earth, that there is less land
than water; and I am no submersible;
And I know this planet is quite alien to me
Should I stand and recount how many horizons
I’ve sustained here, just for you?
And should I believe I need to stretch my hand out
to the face of the moon, that seems weirder to me.
For, it symbolises water and has none!
And I need you to let me know
what is the preference of your will?
I have clothed every storm that passed by
in sheer resilience, to appease you
There is a voice speaking from an evil void
that orders a conclusion and seeks a settlement
and if I should not submit to its mechanisms,
the entire armies of the world would be roused to torment me!
Or should you think that I should stir up destruction
even as everything I love is trapezing on delicate strings
And when my own survival is at stake with the destruction
Can we be tightrope walkers in a stalemate
since no decision can be reached; in a dilemma
where evil seems to blind all my options with its talons
held against my face; How solid can I be in the perforations
from treachery, trauma and pain? I have learnt to believe
in the substance of my solidity, and solidarity with patience
that must not be reversed even if it can materialise calm
I am just not willing to acquire water for terra firma to live
in the ambience of its deluge. And I am only asking for a little ignition
so that I can burn my logs till eternity is agreeable.
Not even worrying about defeat. If the fire that you give me
makes you and I, and all the deserving souls meet!
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