I’m not sure yet, how easy is death, for I love to live,
I always have. Ah, to live with you,
How happy a state would it be! Not changing at all,
Even a whit, even post-love?
Still loathe and avoid all mention of death, I do.
Death, the recurrent theme, now intertwined with another: You.
You overpower death, or, let me rephrase it,
Fear to fear, losing you as a possibility,
So engrosses me, pervades my being so,
That I forget death for a while, and now,
I have you and death in front of me.
My thoughts run.
They run to hide in your protective lap to lie there, to sleep, fearless,
For death can’t reach there, you’ve told me with your reassuring eyes.
Your eyes are brown, which shade, I never had courage to stay and stare
And know for sure. They’re bewitching, unnerving, beautiful.
I hardened the cyst but the soft core of truth, of weakness; remained.
You’ve told me that the fear of loss – of life, of love; is true.
But asked me to rest while you weave round me a cocoon.
An excellent write, Rajnish.
Thank you for your comment, Joanne.