A figure walks by the sea—
A figure from an ill-remembered dream,
Once the heart’s denizen, now a Stranger—
In the twilight of his grief and pain,
Under a canopy of invisible stars above,
He walks on ahead, unencumbered and free.
He steps into the restless waters:
My body shivers at his feet’s touch.
I sing for him ardent paeans of my love,
Sung in the hidden tongues of the heart;
His ears hear my forlorn music in the winds,
And he gently smiles—for he knows my song.
His fingers run across my waters, playfully.
My waves rush forth, eager for his embrace,
Resounding in my old exhilaration at his sight.
The force of my waves topples him into my arms,
Drenched in my warm waters, he laughs out in joy,
I have spread over him, like the dawn over the east—
And at last, our forsaken communion is now restored.
My love sticks to his body and his soul
As the stubborn, warm sand kissing his feet—
An eternity of embraces shattered into dust—
Now made whole upon his golden skin.
They tickle him, teasing him, unrelentingly,
And his laugh flows like rain into my depths:
Our brief moment together now becomes timeless.
Twilight ushers in the night’s desolation,
But the Stranger has found his old peace.
He remembers all the yearnings of yore:
For all things remain, like the stars in the sun.
The Stranger takes his leave; he empties out the sea.
In his footprints remain all but the bruises of our love.
Empty bottles of beer and the ashes of our fires,
Lie strewn around the two empty chairs—one for him,
And the other for me—for us, forever in forsaken wait.
For a lost muse—
Bardhaman,
Jyeṣṭha Śuklā Dvitīyā
The 5th of June in 2019 CE.