When does the magic enter one’s eyes?
The promise of love and pain, laughter and tears enter one’s soul?
When does a familiar face become a dear visage?
When does every natural movement invoke a sense of awe?
When does one become so tuned to another’s scent and shadow?
To another’s frown and smile, yearning and sorrow?
When do two twin heartbeats resonate as one?
When does the music so slow between souls become heartwrenchingly beautiful?
When does one wait with bated but sure breath for that single look?
When does a mere footfall have all one’s pulses racing?
When does distance seem a mere statistic and no place too far away?
When does the promise of a fairytale seem achingly close?
When does the magic die and the curse begin?
When does the reality of hatred and pain, tears and loneliness pierce one’s soul?
When does a dear visage seem too distant to caress?
When does a familiar movement begin to irritate?
When does familiarity breed contempt?
When does music turn into cacophony?
When does the single look become an ugly mask of confrontation?
When does the hand raised is not to caress but to strike?
When does distance become a statistic between two minds?
When does no place seems far enough to run from one’s tears and fears?
Whence this curse?
Whence the lifting?
When does a familiar face become a dear visage?
When does every natural movement invoke a sense of awe?
When does one become so tuned to another’s scent and shadow?
To another’s frown and smile, yearning and sorrow?
When do two twin heartbeats resonate as one?
When does the music so slow between souls become heartwrenchingly beautiful?
When does one wait with bated but sure breath for that single look?
When does a mere footfall have all one’s pulses racing?
When does distance seem a mere statistic and no place too far away?
When does the promise of a fairytale seem achingly close?
When does the magic die and the curse begin?
When does the reality of hatred and pain, tears and loneliness pierce one’s soul?
When does a dear visage seem too distant to caress?
When does a familiar movement begin to irritate?
When does familiarity breed contempt?
When does music turn into cacophony?
When does the single look become an ugly mask of confrontation?
When does the hand raised is not to caress but to strike?
When does distance become a statistic between two minds?
When does no place seems far enough to run from one’s tears and fears?
Whence this curse?
Whence the lifting?
- Srividya Srinivasan 13.11.2005
2 comments:
I think this distance is created, it does not happen.Remember what Norton Milton says in Battle Cry? Two people in love have to work to keep it alive, otherwise it sours....
Loved this one Sri!
HUGS!! I feel a journey and its scars.
~Rachna
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