Yesterday, you asked me
something about love
that I never knew.

How dark was that question,
as the bark of the laughter.

Earlier today, I found its answer
but as I was about to tell you,
then again you asked me
another question about love,
whose answer I never knew.

How deceptive was that question,
as the hallucination of the future.

Suddenly, you grew red
as the skies of
Iraq and Afghanistan
and left me on the middle
of the blue, calling me,
“an ignorant fool.”

But my love! Let me,
tell you this.
I am not ignorant.
I do know one thing.

Love is, what it is;
it is not, what it is not,
and it belongs to those
who love it
and not to those
who doubts its glory.

Love is not complex.
It is as simple
as walking together in the rain
and getting completely wet
but not worrying about being sick, tomorrow.

May be this is why,
they say, “ Love is not stagnant,”
it grows and grows, until it decays and dies, and
then it grows again as the phoenix of time.


Copyright 2005 Bhuwan Thapaliya