To The Love I Would Never Confess

She is a tangible adventure. She is aspirin in disguise. She is the psychedelic good trip you always craved for. Good thing about her? She is real. Bad thing about her? She is real.

Imagine drowning in a dire and dreary ocean. Your limbs numb. Your lungs all choked up. Craving for oxygen. She is the breath that redeems you.

And I love her. And as strange as it may sound, I don't yearn for her to stay. Because why would she? I have never asked her to. Because why should I?

Why would I want to become the reason for her utopian dream of a perfect love being shattered? Which is sure to get ripped asunder.

And I would just wait and watch as she cracks up. Because she is supposed to. Because everybody does. Also, do you recall Rumi? Thus.

You don't stop a river and embrace its flow, do you? Can you? What flow is to river, freedom is to her.

She is not supposed to be caged. Nobody is. The world needs healing. Why would I have all of her when she can go on and vindicate pirated souls? Why should anyone have anyone for that matter?

And as her wild spirit would return hurt, amidst the disgusting truth of the lies the mankind would obtrude upon her; I would usher into her being, the hymn of a broken man, “darling, impermanence is bliss.”

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©Mayan, November 28, 2016