I Do Not Know What Is The Cause.
I do not know, what is the cause.
Is it the sight that makes love,
Or the love that creates a sight,
Not to see,
But to behold.
To be in the eternity of the clasp,
That of an eagle,
With its talons,
Tearing into your flesh,
Yet you be and you hold on,
Waking up in the middle of your night,
That the eagle dropped you,
It's nails were not as sharp.
Sharper than your love.
Hardik Mahesh Vaidya
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Comments about this poem (I Do Not Know What Is The Cause. by Hardik Vaidya )
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