Seems to me
it was a disturbance
in the field of indifference.
Just a small ripple
in what seemed to be consistent,
caused an uproar
worthy of wise men’s awe,
and I never could,
or would,
wish to go back,
and be the same.
Just as the sparkling image in the wind came,
I flipped the script
and became devout
to candlelight
that has an expiry date,
but nevertheless,
an otherworldly dignity,
since it is decided to burn,
with one and the same intensity.
On the other hand,
heaven awaits it.
Heaven awaits it to burn out,
so it can breathe in the ashes
of a love almost unimaginable,
a love thought to be unattainable,
a love that lasted throughout its time,
with no second thoughts,
inclined only to listen to the wind
if it’s blowing kisses,
if it’s spreading word
of heaven to come.
Spirit of Tara 