Standing by the seaside, I often wonder where the waves come from and where do they go?
like me they are vagabond
splashes every beach scours every shore
searching those footprints that he left behind,
whispering the forlorn story to every pebble, every grain
the waves make sure it reaches his ears next time when he visits;
Will he ever listen to the conch?
Will he ever hear my heart’s call?
—
Standing by the seaside, I often wonder where do the clouds come from and where do they go?
sometimes like a bird, or a rabbit they float
sometimes like an orchid or just a fluffy dollop
so many tiny droplets they hold inside
yet when they pour quenches the thirst of countless souls;
then why the ravines flowing down my cheeks
fail to lessen the pain, buried deep inside?
—
Standing by the seaside, I often wonder where the breeze come from and where does it go?
sometimes tranquil sometimes stormy
they make the brine dance to their tunes
they sing the ballads of seafarers
hoots the lamenting tales of mermaids
one day a gust kissing my lips
snatched away a few letters
gliding over every coast, every island
they look for my wandering man;
Will he ever decipher the whistling breeze?
Will, he ever feel the lost memories?
—
Standing by the seaside, I often wonder where the salts come from and why the oceans taste salty, at all?
there must be something sacred in salts
smiling I take a fistful of sand
they match the pulse of mine
I glow beneath the scarlet sky,
my silhouette cast on the glowing sands
a tiny drop trickles down my cheeks
Ah! oceans are earth’s eyes
wounded, when I can cry so can She!
—-
Standing by the seaside, I often wonder why the heart always whines to return to the sea?
for I’m like You and you’re like Me!
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.