How will be the touch of GOD?
Warm like a geyser or frozen like a glacier?
Soft like a kiss or hard like a diamond?
Where will I get it?
At a shrine, a shop or a secret place?
What feel it will bestow on me?
Loved like a little one,
Rejoiced like a peacock seeing nimbus clouds,
Frightened like a necrophobic,
Or sheltered like in mother’s grasp?
Whose will be closer to ‘His’?
The stranger’s who rescued the drowned kid,
Or the friend’s who saved the drowning mate,
Or the mother’s who hugs and says,
“Don’t worry, I’m there with you”.
But I wish to hold ‘His’ hands too,
The quest took me over cities, forests, mountains and valleys.
A stranger or a friend or family always held my hand,
But not the ‘elite’ one.
Though the choice is wholly mine; whether to pursue,
Or to see the ‘assigned ones’ around…