THE LONER

If love had become the path,
Many paths would have sprouted,
To many loves,
And flowers would have paved them,
Hedges of hitherto un-existing plants would have come up,
Sprinkled with the water of
love.

The path uphill still waits,
Bearing the Gulmohar trees
ablaze with blossoms,
They see, but don’t wait for
the strangers who walk by them.
They wait for someone
Whom,
The sky, the air, the pebbles,
Even the grasshoppers know.

One who sits and stares absentmindedly into the horizon,
And the world inhabited yet unknown
So near yet so alien,
One, who sits with heartful of emptiness
With nobody to share
Yet the one
Like whom nobody holds the universe
To his being,
One who loves the mango orchard beyond the railway tracks
And its unknown grounds
same way as the unfamiliar faces in a crowd.

As the dusk touches
the skin and the breeze tell it’s time
To go back to
The world of duality,
The legs pull themselves up
And the lip stretches into a smile,
A sigh of unknown truths escapes the being
And freedom readies
To enter into the joy of
Living, amidst
Revelations,
Of accepted bondages,
And of immense realizations