A/N: This is another symbolic poem. I hope you understand the meaning and the in-depth of this poem!
The darkest of the
darker night;
Arrived with a grand conspiracy.
The scintillating stars shrank
From the iciness of my anger.
The moon seemed to have forgotten
Her rendezvoused task tonight.
An eerie silence,
Filled the trembling atmosphere.
As we both locked our eyes,
For one last time.
But this time...
There was magic hidden.
Anyone who saw us,
Could have been forgiven
To have thought of us as
Two strangers.
We studied each other with
Emotionlessly,
Face unfathomable and
Ungraspable.
No emotions dared
To grace our faces,
In this ironic moment,
When our hearts were literally
Being crushed by tons of emotions.
But...
No one could see,
The rage in our eyes,
For,
A whole war was being fought,
Between two bitter emotions of
Love and rationality.
Love being as fragile as a doll,
But holding the brilliance of our hearts
And rationality being as dominant as a lioness,
But brandishing the sanity of our minds.
The irony was that,
Love was an antidote
To the curse of rationality.
But rationality was a poison
To the blessing of love.
The streetlights
Of the deserted road,
put together,
Wouldn't hold a candle in front of
Her glistening damp eyes.
Nor her trembling lips
Which now carved into an exuberant smile.
An infernal, icy voidness,
Vitalising with angry fumes of pain,
Engulfed my spirit,
Determined to make a taint.
Our Souls sliced into two,
Unbalanced counterparts,
For the larger part was to
Exchange
And get lost within the other,
Never to be found again.
She raised her hand
In farewell,
And numbly spun around.
She walked a considerable length,
And halted abruptly.
I looked at her still, slender figure,
Knowing she wouldn't come back,
She wouldn't walk back.
She wouldn't...
But love had a theory...
Love believed,
In making you believe,
That the things that cannot happen
Will happen.
She forced her shivering legs to move,
And walked determinedly,
Keeping an unwavering gaze at
the front.
And for once,
She didn't turn back.
In a brutish sense,
Love had accomplished
It's theory once more.
We all know we deserve each other.
Even the sun knew
that he couldn't
shine brighter than our love.
Even the moon knew
she couldn't match our
resplendence.
And you ask,
Why I didn't stop her.
On that sacred nightfall,
Of our separation.
*****
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Entaché
Poetry'A poet is a liar, who always speaks the truth.' - Jean Cocteau An assemblage of my poems.
