Subjectivity of Love

What is subjective is criminal as it kills the very notion of certainty, the path to goals set by the human mind. If this is true, then 'Love' is the most profound criminal activity penetrating the fiber of universe, the most primitive of felonies committed by a human soul against the mind of the host human body. Love is a war between a man's mind and soul to attain what is culpable and unreal for if it was worthy of an intra-human enmity, subjectivity would have prevailed.

electron of love

Aah! Why am I so ignorant? Why don't I know what other do? Why does my heart ache when I think of religion while others rejoice? Why do I shed tears on the dead who I don't know? Perhaps, because the corpses speak to me in a language inexplicable...that it could be you. Has meaning of wisdom taken a paradigm shift? If it has not, then why do our wise demagogues create divide. I am lost, but one thing I am very sure of. I would rather be an inept, out of place stumbling piece of an Idiot who knows 'Love' than a wise, glorified, revered dollop of democracy who is comprehensively devoid of electron of love.

You

I still can't seem to let go off my mind your first smile. Entering the room, I saw many faces and still realized only one. In your eyes was the language I wanted to communicate through and in your voice I found the music that made me dance. Business was what brought me there and you were who kept me there. If love was the subject, I am sure I wanted to understand it through you. For the first time ever, I didn't have to make an effort; all the fabrics of my existence were in harmony with the vibration of your presence. I looked upon at everyone but you, for I was nervous. Not so, because I was afraid, but because all this had come to this single point in time when we were sharing the same space, breathing the same air, feeling each others' presence, knowing we existed and have found each other. My quest was brought to an end and I instantly knew it was you.

If life was poem, you were my muse; in moments of loneliness, you were my wait; in sadness, you were my tears; in nervousness, you were my trembling; in happiness, you were my smile. Yes, I wore you even before I knew you for before I knew you I knew no life. You were all over me and today I have just reached a stage where I discovered this. I know, I am never going to lose you as I know I am never going to get you...

Hope

I waited for rains
standing in the river
arms stretched, fingers so tight,
I saw it coming
in the Jungle I was,
yet I was not wet,
the drops had failed me,
sun-soaked I stood,
watching the woods
dancing in the rain,
the leaves so smug,
and flowers so vain,
I closed my eyes and smiled,
"forgive them god
for they are so high,
it rains in the jungle,
with river so dry,
with clouds fading soon
and drops getting thinner,
it is river they'll come to,
their hapless stand-by"
my prayers are answered, I hope,
I stand still,
my fingers getting loose,
despair beckons loud,
but hope i choose,
I am dry in the river,
and wet under sun,
trembling it reminds,
the wait has just begun!

I will make it to the end!

stumbling i may walk,
mumbling i may speak,
they may laugh at me,
i may be a little slow,
i may not be as clever,
i may not stand forever,
i may not be that friend,
but i will make it to the end!

scared i may be,
tall i may not walk,
they may count me out,
i may be out of sorts,
i may have spoilt it all,
i may need to crawl,
i may not make ammend,
but i will make it to the end!

high i may not go,
great i may not be,
they may shove me down,
i may not scream aloud,
i may not wipe my tear,
i may have lived in fear,
i know how to offend,
and i will make it to the end!

Syliva: By William Shakespeare

And why not death rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
*What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
*What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

Miss You Somehow!

You wrote those letters,
when we were so young,
you said, "I love you",
when i was no one,
you smiled in pain,
and cried in mine,
you said, "don't worry, you will be fine",
you held my hands,
when i was to fall,
and said, "my dear, let's go on a stroll",
you swallowed my tears,
and held me tight,
you said, "get up! you have to fight",
you saw me in jitters,
and god! did you care,
you said, "come what may, I'll be here",
your touch, your smell,
your hair, your voice,
your lips, your face,
are still so ripe,
i may not be there,
in some time from now,
will love you forever,
and miss you somehow!