Endeavour Poem by Smita Agarwal

That impossible love
Dwells in miraculous space
Where, the cliff - mad
With isolation and grief -
Embraces, in a death-grip,
The void;
Where, the raging sea
Rushes to kiss the horizon -
Cold and detached;
Where, land - flattened,
Trod upon, weighed down,
Nevertheless, lifts itself to lie
With the sky, one last time …

We must go on
Towards this fabulous place
Talked about by Shams and Rumi;
This northern star
Which, maybe, does not exist...

There will be times
When the feet, bruised and torn,
Will give up.
The hands will turn limp,
Our parched lips will crack
And ooze,
The eye will spot vultures circling
And quietly accept defeat.

The body will gradually become insentient...
In that interregnum
Between awareness and coma
Will come the last upsurge
Of desire...
And you will rise, ever so lightly,
On the wings of endeavour
And find yourself,
Intrepid traveller,
Just once,
Again...