Loving is living

I know
The sun doesn’t rise or set. Yet,
I cherish every sunset
My eyes could witness, milking
Its beauty to fill me, before I heave a sigh.

I imagine; the sun goes home beyond yon
Verdant hills or into that darkened ocean water

I believe; the chlorophyll in the leaves
Will not go waste or the colours hidden
Within the coy buds with folded hands

The sun shall pass over them again,
Again and again, and again
There are going to be many a sunset

I am a predestined traveller, who
Crosses the day’s green hills and night’s
Dark  valleys, from sunrise to sunset
And from sunset to sunrise.

Simply because, like the sun
I too do not have the provision to rest
And then to rise, as I wish.

The heart has to beat and the lungs
Have to work, ceaselessly – an auto-
Programmed cell-network, which I am,
Indifferent to dreams and their ways.

Only I knew, loving you was living,
Breathing – inhaling and exhaling you,
And you are the fragrance of the only world
Real to me , where I exist as I am.

 

Sarala

 

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