The Vulnerable ‘I’ (Questions

I’ve been pondering for years,

And thought I was finding answers;

But today, I stand clueless again,

With a hope, tomorrow heals the pain,

 With a faint dream, that I may learn:

The essence of ‘LOVE’: that foolish concern.


The love that helps me feel my self,

That need not make me dismissively regress

From my own reflection, my faith,

And lessons perfected by distress.

Is there a love in this world, alive?

The one in my head, the one I COULD survive.


You make me question myself in my doubt,

You tell me things I wish to believe,

To my ears, usual words; but your trance

Wins in its effort to deceive,

This moment in time’s deepest sea:

Thus weary to flee, I stay and be.


I know not, what fears me the most,

That urges me to evaporate this emotion,

This enactment, a little alien to me;

Or is it, that I seek a face of devotion?

For in this world, ceased to me,

Seems that form, innocent and free!


I know not, why I stand so stubborn,

Or why I long for this, so much!

I could still choose to prefer instead,

Like each time, my moments of weakness;

Or does love really make me weak, as such?

In its craze, of cradling in nature’s clutch!


(Modified: 29-05-2012)

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