Mirage

There is no Ocean

Silent the river,

The barren land

And a forlorn traveler.

Oh the desert,

No quench to our thirst;

Even after crossing The Sahara

We have Gobi,

We have Thar

Within the heart of each lover’s Africa.

May be love is there,

And so there are

Drops of Ofelia in the Air;

After that remains the Nubilous Azure.

We have thirst,

So there are

Tallyho of the Desert,

Darkness of Cactus

And the long miles ever.

Thus

Chasing the Mirage

Lost in the outcry of his past,

The aloof traveler.

If there is thirst

It is in our minds,

Let be if it is;

Kerbala of our life subsumes

Still Love of the Oasis.

But

From that antique-age

We are voyagers of the arid land,

(For us)

Oases are the unseen image

On the way to those unknown Mirage.

Thus

Group by group

The Gypsy traveler,

After crossing Thar, Gobi

Coffined in the colossal of Sahara.

As well the sand-steps

Dwindle away amid the Twister.

They are History

(Does love is only history?)

And so are

The Skies of their dreamy hearts

Those used to blaze the Sun.

They are the conquered souls,

But they too are the bystanders

Through the times

Of the journey of man, lone.

We too are journeymen of the same

The eternity beyond the time.

There is love for us,

We are for that Love

And are the Oases of our part.

If we too don’t spot that colossus

We will also be past

Time will carve now and again

The same dead duck Epitaph.

This is our time

Today is ours,

Why do we wait for the morrow,

Morrow that never comes

Amid the counts of gloomy Calculus;

Present is our loves.

Oases are there

Therefore the Mirage,

There is love

So are the Nubilous Azure

And the unheard feeling to be apart.

We are here

That is the truth.

Right and wrong,

Loss and gain;

Merely life is not that quadratics

Nor love only Hormonics.