Friday, 2 August 2013

To A.S

You, my love, are dearer
Than this beating heart
Symphonies of Mozart
Than the last drop of water
That quenches the thirst
Of a lost wanderer.
Dearer than the earth,
The womb and the tomb
Dearer than the swaying breeze
The whispering trees
Dearer than love itself
Its thrill, its promise
Dearer than the sentient
And the insentient
Dearer than the pristine dew
Moistening the eyes
My Dearest...
Without you
There are no vices, no virtues
No utopia, no pastel hues
Only the grey melancholia
My Dearest...
You are a fragment of this soul
You're mine, from conception
Till annihilation; its sweet adieu
My Dearest... 
I love you.


  1. Intense passion for the muse! The muse radiates more beauty than all the landscapes our planet has to offer, which is why its an OTHERWORLDLY feeling. Absence of the muse creates the tempest of gloom but the muse itself is the wave that will sweep you to the shore of bliss. Well written piece.

  2. Thank you, Nilotpal, for the encouraging feedback... You rightly pointed out, the muse gives the reason. The reason to believe in all things good within and outside us... It inspires, touches the heart in a way that wouldn't have been possible otherwise, it brings joy, peace and contentment...Real or imagined, the muse always nurtures the love within.

  3. hmm hmmm.....Keep believing in the power of love :) :)Beautiful it is :)

  4. Power of love :)... Astounding indeed