Talk of the Moon and the Tide
The scene was so perfect as best it could be, Behind the clouds, stars were too hard to see,
For the ceaseless striking waves lost their potence,
And the oceanic music had been dead silence.
On the dark sky, a steady gleaming moon was hung, on the water, another dancingly swung.
Ohh! the breeze was also gentle then,
For which clouds drifted time and again.
From the shining sea surface, a tide surged, Rrse and rose, before merging deep in the water,
Perhaps could not muster the courage to rise to that height,
To express his love, who was just in front of sight.
Somehow another ripple formed and so the tide, this time a little higher and a little wide,
Finally gathered his voice to express his heart ,
Unsure whether it would reach his love or scatter in parts.
“You wake me up from the depth of this loneliness, and fill my soul with sublime holiness,
And yet when I try to rise a bit loftier,
Seems like you move up higher.
The shadow you cast from the very day, to the round one of silvery rays,
I have shielded each with my stretching arms,
Through which I sense you, no, I would not let it harm.
Your broken view even emanates voluptuous beauty,
To match you, those stars are nothing but sheer fruity, an aura of pleasant agitation that you shower,
Before reaching there, the stars will lose their power.
Those scars are that make you special, else you would be just anything celestial, if imperfection is the feeling that impacts,
Remember; beautiful things are never perfect.
The gentle pace you make through that settled course, Is that a sign you have any remorse?
The message that you are afraid of,
And hesitant to tell, yet I am prepared for the rough!
Perhaps the Moon heard what she feared, still addled to air, the unease she reared,
And tried to hide above the then-clumsy cloud,
But still longed to cry her pain aloud.
“How could she attract him so high , that reveal her inferiority in the sky,
That the luster is just a borrowed pattern,
Wouldn’t a bee nix lily in a jasmine garden!
Perhaps their meeting is a wild dream,
For the distance is nature’s secret scheme, still ready is she to travel the length,
But a chain of thoughts cuts her strength.
Would the sky feel ashamed to let her touch the ground, or the earth separate them with sturdy mound! Would the sea sleep in a serene slumber,
Or the wind still be the cumber! ”
With bulbul’s song, fell the gloomy sunlight, and the moon had to wait another fortnight, The waves crashed against side by side,
Therevby waiting for the next talk of the moon and the tide
BY SAURABHA KUMAR NAYAK