violent dispersal

I am writing this thing because i terribly miss you. Miss you in ways my heart cannot endure. i see beautyin a country full of lovely people and yet i cant helpbut think about you, write you in this great distance,search for your soul and clarity in this sea of greatseverance, want you and crave for you again and again.

Yes you are right,India is a very beautiful place.

But nothing compares to you, nothing surpasses yourrhyme. If your heart is a lovely continent, a lostcountry of beauty and grace, ill go back again maybe even settle there. Stay there not because i want totake over the affairs and beatings of your heart norto treat it like a conquest suffered by many nationscolonized.

I want to settle and dwell in your heart because i begfor the nourishment of your sweet escape, to inherentyour time even if it is temporal, and lastly humblylove you, love you and love you.  

My heart is like Calcutta and Mumbai. We share thesame beggars, we share the same want, needs and alms.We share the same longing and waiting. The beggars of

Calcutta and mumbai want their lives and dignity back,while me, I want your light like how moths fall in love with fireflies. I long for your you, yes you,woman of countless words.

I crave. I search and search for the captivatingredemption of your closet heart.Taking you away fromme is like taking away a very important piece of me,its like taking away a large part of me. 

I miss you very much and India greatly understands.



last night it rained.////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Then i remembered you. I remember you and your smalland fragile hands. So small raindrops will wither inenvy.... so fragile, music of butterflies.

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 23rd, 2005 at 9:24 pm and is filed under yesteryears. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.