Love Or Illusion?

Awestruck, the poet is yet again, seeing Barnali fly! And, Barnali flies…

Flies high and then, descends, comes down nimbly; near the poet, sits quietly!

At the poet, looks; and then, smiles! Her lips dance, and she smiles some more!

Blossom in her bosom brings charm, beautiful Barnali; in his heart, the poet feels warmth;

But, Barnali feels shy! Her wings flutter; wings spread around, she floats, again to the sky!

An illusion it was or a mirage - the poet is silent, without words! Looks the poet endlessly,

As Barnali flies away and swims to the sky, high; she has deluded the poet, yet again!

With momentary compassion, an evanescent romance, the brief Barnali saga turns only a tale;

Stares, and the poet can only stare; awestruck by the Barnali paradox, an ephemeral warm spark,

That felt he hard, deep in his old, heavy heart; compiles he, everything shall pass, like Barnali,

Into the endless; sink down into the unfathomable Brahmaputra bed; His poems, their coy emotions,

The muffed voices of the soul, the mind’s matter, his Barnali-love, shall all drown into the bosom

Of the Brahmaputra bed, to relive the Barnali paradox; to re-love Barnali, and breeze into the abyss,

Of the Brahmaputra slumber; poet’s beloved she, the brief Barnali illusion, Barnali herself,

Remains fundamental to the existence of nothingness! An illusion or a love -

How does the poet describe his beloved, Barnali? A love for illusion, or an illusion of love,

A paradox of poetry in the Brahmaputra bosom, Barnali bathed in beauty, lures the poet till today!