The Platonic Mates

(c) Shilpa Sandesh



Love....

 Is it all that is?
Or
Is it the most beauteous?

 Love is a mere confession,
A feeling, an aggression,
Like anguish, like melancholy,
Feelings dominated by wisdom,
Or by folly;

 It is but something more,
Something prepossessing,
Above all the allure,
Something graceful and aesthetic,
Miles from imprudence and inanity;

 Mind dwells deeper,
The shovel of  undefined inquisitiveness,
Digs into abysmal depths;

 Can there be a touch, without a touch?

 Yes,
An embrace without an embrace,
A kiss without the meeting of the lips,
Entangling fingers from seas apart,
Where the two can still hear,
The beating of each others heart;

 So Oh Wizard,
If you sense a presence,
An aura, an invisible semblance,
It's the wish, a dream,
An ethereal beam,
Rising from my soul,
In search of its true master,
And in your soul,
It shall meet.

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