The Death Of The Unborn

 Your heart may swell with wonder as you watch
        your baby's first step in all it's glamour,
Ecstatic you may feel as you read in print
        the manuscript that sucked your youthful valor,
And your heart may dance as it discovers
        that it has started talking to some other kernel;
But can it be more joyous than the dawn of the eternal!

You may watch with awe and respect when you insist
        to prostitute your feelings in your works of art,
You may share with wonder the vision offered by the photograph
        that you felt was roll's indiscreet exposure in the past,
And your special goal that ties you with your love
        may appear dignified 'cause for it all soulmates cared;
But can anything equal the grace befitting the promiscuity of the unshared.

The range of masks that you so easily pull
        to camouflage and succeed may make you feel content,
A great work of art may feel safe and secure
        with it's aura of mystery preventing analysis of authorial intent,
And the world of love with which you wrapped yourself
        even now though you are naked prevents you from being forlorn;
But can it be more comforting than the protection offered by the unworn?

The charging of flower from the potential of seed
    may keep you spellbound with dazzling ease,
The glass which has nothing but a vow not to take
    while reflecting your face may forever lock your gaze,
And the splendor of horizon with its promise of tryst
    may by its magic make you never slow down the road;
But is this more fascinating than the beauty of the unbestowed ?

The center of worship around which you oscillate
    may equally feel the force which makes you circle with sate,
The gravity of situation may make you vacillate
    as you are gripped by forces that grow stronger as you run from fate,
And despite the ionic nature of your twin soul mate
    the vibrations may convince you that the bond is covalent and shared;
But what can be more real but the silent quivering of the unfelt !

You may be drawn to use your oratory to bring down on knees
    those who for years have been ruled by the charm of speech,
You may feel the pull of powers that you are able to generate
    by harnessing natural resources with technical expertise,
And you may be tempted to play in Love's seductive arena
    knowing that this emotion you have already tamed;
But what can be more attractive than the riding of the untamed !

As you painstakingly corroborate your aesthetics of life
    by elegant physical laws you may feel divine,
Your brain and vision may make you capture from crane
    how to distinguish the milk from the wine,
And the folds of your brain that hide your anger in dark
    may nurture it for use-- unfurling as you hit ground;
But alas its not half as ingenious as the harness of the unfound !

You may feel stressed as its inflicted on you
    that alone you have to rise above the highest towers,
The rose may feel doomed to be special amongst flowers
    and redden as it struggles to live up to its legendary powers,
And the non-verbal concepts may die under the weight
    of words they chose to wear to verbally break ground;
But what can be more demanding than the uniqueness of the uncrowned ?

The black spot in moon may catch your eyes as you watch
    the vain attempts of moon to hide it by waxing and waning,
The naive attempt by Krishna to blame his thefts on moon
    may reveal that even great men are not forthcoming about their past,
And the burning of Kamdev to ascertain he had risen above sex
    may make you realize that even Shiva needed self-deception to move towards the Goal
But what can be more revealing than the defense of the unblamed ! 

You may remember with affection the lacunae of pain
    from which your eyes' prowess to measure depths grew,
The love of Love that supersedes your love for her
    by its ordained agony may make enrich your view,
And you may cherish the courage that swept through your being
    by the ugliness of fate-wounds that you thereby sealed;
But what can be more dear than the aftermaths of the unhealed !

The stars may save you in your times of need
    only to discover their message you do not heed,
The sun may decide to shine with equipoise
    unaware of the shadows this inequity would breed
And you may cut your heart to pieces as you serve
    in the image of God this unworthy lot;
But can this be more reckless than the charity of the ungot ?

The desire to look tall in your own eyes
    may press upon your nerves in morality's disguise,
The unselfish servitude that is your goal in life
        by its reminders of debt may leave with you no choice,
And the promise of the unexpected as you freely wander
    may with passion make you renounce all you've got;
But what can be more driving than the lure of the unsought ?

The ideals you cared for but couldn't inculcate
    may peep out now and then from useless archives,
You may think you wont forget those tender moments
    when it was revealed on you how much you cared for her vibes,
And the lone memory of God during those nightmarish days
    may surface to welcome hardships whenever they have to be shared;
But what can be more spontaneous than the remembrance of the uncared ?

The brutal face of truth when dispassionately defrocked
    may leave its imprint on your tender soul
The glimpse of Love as you kissed her that night
    by its lingering moistness may try to cajole,
And the jolt of seeing yourself stripped of all covers
    may shake your uneven surfaces clean;
But what can be more lasting than the memories of the unseen ?

The cry of distress may tear through your heart
    deafening your ears to sighs of lower bass,
The paeans of Nature may coax your wandering soul
    giving you an illusion their silence will never pass,
But die they must
    with each new tune that is sung
For what can be truly haunting but the melody of the unsung !

You may think that with love you have tamed her deep
    and you know her texture as you know your hand,
You may feel that the hand that blesses your soul
    is as tender and soothing as in the beginning of trail,
But each time you reach out with memories of old
    your skin will feel cursed
For what can be familiar except the surface of the untouched.

You may see in toto the shape of your dreams
    and know in detail the rough edges with which its armed,
The poems you drew with the brush of words
    may make you recall the silhouette you originally formed,
But each time they feel the gentle push of thought
    they will be distanced as their finesse is deformed
For what can be immediate but the contours of the unformed .

The computers of Sci-fi may trouble your soul
    with powers of replication and intelligence galore,
The foolhardiness of Man in exploiting Nature
    may make you cower with heart that is sore,
And your sharp thoughts that dazzle even your vision
    may make you desperately seek an escaping slot,
But what can be more fearsome than the bravado of the unthought !

A word out of tune from the lips that you love
    may kill all your zeal and your will to shout,
A hymn of praise from the lips that you worship
    may luringly drown you as your feet leave the ground,
And the thunderous impulses as they do their 'tandav'
    may blatantly sever from you the title staid;
But what can be more violent than the blunt edge of the unsaid !

You may be cut down deep as the country was partitioned
    numbed and deafened by freedom struggle's uproar,
You may be moved to tears as on my body you watch
    the burns that were stamped by Mandal furore,
And you may feel my grief as you watch in dismay
    the lone scar of war run across my face disarmed;
But what could have been more pathetic than the curse of coming unharmed ?

The 'kenchuli' that had almost become my part
    shed after years of use might have left its scars,
The towers of success that I lovingly built
    as they fell might have crushed my lucky stars,
And the infant wish that couldn't withstand
    the test of time might prick like a thorn;
But could all this have been more poignant than the death of the unborn ?