Love

Like a thorn it enters
And secretes the joyous juice of bliss
The pain promptly vanishes
But the prick persists.

Blood runs hot and heavy
Veins swell up with it
But cork seals puncture
Traversing transient happiness

The minutest movement hurts;
And a stationary situation seems best, though to no avail.
Jerk jerks it out but jerked it is back in;
Blood sprouts out, then blocked;
But the puncture persists.

Open it is to one day
So i know, he says
but that day is far away...

Tomorrow, blood fills buckets.
Thorn vanishes, the puncture prominent remains.

No cork, no stopppage, pure flow
and flow it does.
So i knew, he says.
Yet sets off on a new ordeal,
search for new thorn.

It wont fit the hole,
but find it he must.
While the blood oozes.

No more thorn lasts long
yet more punctures appear
No more corks curb the tide
And the blood oozes.



Shivalik Hostel