Unnamed Yet Always A Sublime Echo.
When you came unto me,
I was least prepared,
To see you in satin,
Smooth and sublime.
Long day, fights, dogs,
The raised leg,
Marking of scents,
I was not prepared.
But then you came,
And you engulfed me,
Your perfume of the soul,
Wafting through my unknown senses,
I akin to a heroin addict,
Hallucinating in your presence,
Of what I could have had,
Not knowing I had you.
Time stretching like wrinkles,
On the abdomen of a woman,
Births and marks, and marks of love,
Rivers of fond memories,
Silting in the folds of skins old,
Thoughts of fertility,
That of the soul.
But then you came,
And you tilled my soil,
Barren arid desert of fixed gaze,
You distracted me into attention,
You the cynosure of my reason.
Hardik Mahesh Vaidya.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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