I thought I saw you in the stillness
of my reflection; and remembered
how you formed me, and I formed
you. A beginning of sorts, but a continuum
of a mountain with its head in the clouds
and its flanks moving into an endless
undulating plain! Its forests, on the slopes,
symbolising the growth in falling away.
I counted all the infinite numbers of
leaves like the hair follicles protruding out
of the pores of my skin, for you, painstakingly!
If we were surrounded by the chaos and
disappointment of our own mountains, around us,
becoming strange to us. Yet we wrote our, and their songs,
with knives in blood on the fabric of our souls;
so that our wounds hurt us and yet, immaculately,
soothed us because of the memory that arrived with them!
And I thought I remembered you, yet didn’t, at times,
understand you in the different dreams we
happened to pursue (Were they only two roads that
confluence in the end!). I know it is all just
the idiosyncrasies of destiny, in their absolute
relevance to define our love. So, should we be so distant,
and marked by the differences that caricature
the difficulty we rein in to make our love the
uniquest proposition in eternity!
