On writing

A Eulogy to a deserted friend

A meandering river,
that knows not where its headed.
It twists and turns
at every little rock and rift,
headed somewhere,
no one knows where
Not even me,
though I hold the pen.

A gentle wind
that whispers.
Thoughts that were
always there, but never
heard before
Caresses with love
and wonder, all
who care to listen.

A burning fire,
fueled by ardor or amour.
Often writing in anger,
protest or fury
Annihilating all
who dared to glance
Till nothing is left but
heaps of grey ash.

A tear that trickles
down my melancholic face.
As I write, perhaps
of home faraway
The seven seas
that stand between us,
condense into a salty droplet
born in my wistful eyes.

A yellow bird
as he twitters in joy.
When my heart is full,
and happy words tumble out
Words are my window
to the rare world of bliss
That makes heaven
seem an unwanted place.

The solid ground
that supports my being.
The solace that keeps
my soul from dying,
A friend in need,
a savior in distress,
With a pen in hand, I
have all that and more.

A prayer,
a worship,
a submission to
a sublime power
An offering at her altar,
a bliss,
a destiny
A journey
to be made
as I search for her,
The elusive divine,
who guides
my every word,
and will lead me
someday,
to her.

Inspired by Pablo Neruda’s “Poetry“. It is a beautiful poem, do read it if you have the time.