It always comes back to you

All the symbols of rebirth – baptisms in pristine pools, ashes becoming fiery Phoenixes or the mere washing of hands – find their way through trampled landscapes with drying rivulets, chewed off hills and fields of straw to a fractured you: a broken woman looking for a fragmented me to throw her arms around. Now, I can never give you unconditional agape, but I want you to know that depth and substance infuses even the gentlest kiss with something not seen or heard, or even touched, but felt fiercely, furiously and ferociously with the heart. And though each moment doesn’t glow incandensently and we’re often submerged in darkness and disarray, in a haunted, battered room with broken chairs and smashed bulbs, groping, and feeling the walls with flayed wallpaper, searching for the exit, it’s your hand I clasp, your love that gives me a reason to wage war against the maelstrom with a shared intuition, a shared emotion and a shared experience. It’s forever you darling, even if forever is a myth, it’s always you darling, even if Thanatos splits union and mutes always, and it’s a circle of truth that embodies you darling, even if circles are dissected at their diameters and truth dies with the world.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

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