Rendezvous with the newfound...

“If you discover something that made you tighten inside, you'd better try to learn more about it. If you simply ignored the feeling, you'd never know what might happen, and in many ways that's worse than finding out you were wrong in the first place”. – Message in a bottle (Nicholas Sparks)   

 

 

Before…  

She was living her life as it came

with not many complaints,

also not many overwhelms.

She had nothing to be much sad about –

neither to be too happy about.

She was walking a road she daily walked upon,

a path very well known,

a path on which nothing new ever came upon..

 

He was living a life of an outcast,

wandering in the darkness of his own past.

Tides of time had brought him to such a point,

from where he could not differentiate what’s real or fake

or where they joined.

He was wandering like always on a new road,

to see new people, to witness some new emotions,

to take a break..

 

Rendezvous…  

At the crossroad, they passed by each other.

She saw a new face amongst the customary.

Something that was “out of the ordinary”.

She basked herself in complete pleasure.

Such was the glory of her happiness,

that it could easily be seen by eyes, those of a seeker.

 

He too felt the presence of her new emotions,

he was master of this, he knew this essence.

Eventually, acquaintance was made,

many questions were asked

and secrets were shared;

none of them knew

what rules were being broken by them,

every moment together they spent.

 

So intrigued she was with this new arrival

in a route so monotonous,

that she became addicted of his presence.

But him, he had to move on,

he was a traveler and travel he must;

a heart was too suffocating for him to live in,

his place was out in the wild and in the dust.

 

So finally he set out to continue his voyage,

though she wanted him to stay,

but he knew staying won’t help anyway.

He’d instead ruin two lives or even more,

so he told her to stay away

and never again did he come any close.

Gone were the days so fascinating,

gone were her days of unfeigned living

and again she was on a road not so intriguing.

 

They moved on, but her inquisitiveness

prevailed for long.

All the unanswered questions that she held,

kept her seeking for something she knew she’d never get.

For so long she suffered in those nights so dark.

She lost her tranquil and her sleep,

her pillow would wet with her silent weeps.

But one day when she was walking alone,

she stood at the crossroad

and looked at the path so known.

 

Then she saw it, from nowhere it showed.

Like tiny bread crumbs were his footprints,

which she followed.

They took her back from where he came;

finally she knew her stranger also had a name.

Back in home, she lay on bed,

told the night “my quench is fed,

so let me sleep tonight

now that I have no more tears to shed.”

 

After… 

She was living like she did before,

only change is that she likes new faces no more.

She never crossed the crossroad;

never had she found what she looked for.

She kept on walking on the path she knew,

she smiled sometimes remembering those moments;

memories were her treasure now, though very few.

 

He kept wandering in paths with no ends,

sometimes he’d look back, wherever the road bend.

He now avoided any crossroads to cross;

he knew he wouldn’t like to carry any albatross.

No one knows whether he slept or kept awake...

because who knows in his case, “what is real and what is fake”…