You were,
The physical
embodiment of life,
Flowing
without any qualms,
Some patches
dark, some bright.
Life
glides, like your flow,
In
waves, with its ripples.
Depositing
some slack-
Washing away
some,
Bringing
some back.
Like
you, we create some things good,
Nourish
them, savour them,
But
bound as we are,
Moving
forward, abandon – sometimes destroy them.
But like
that floating ball,
That, now and then, kept kissing my knees,
All that
has been created consciously,
Will be around-
as memories.
Maybe
Bruce was right,
When he
asked us to be like water.
But what
about the volcanoes amongst us?
Can
defining characteristics be altered?
Irrespective
of everything, I must confess,
This
tryst added to my being.
I left
behind a bit of me with you,
One
sided- couldn’t be this fling.
What
comes next, I care a damn.
For I
know, what comes will go,
And then
return, in pieces too small,
And then
I know, these ruins,
Will be
a part of it all.
I
assume, we do not live in isolate phases,
Each
phase makes us whole.
We need
to accommodate characters,
Living
or dead, as demands the role.
