softly..

There's an encapsulating tender warmth..
Fluid, translucent, unnervingly secure..
Like the days were before the first..
And a sense of acceptance..
In the cracking earth and the wilting petals..
And smiling a smile of sorrowful triumph..
The lethargy of the noon siesta diffuses in..
To every gulmohar leaf..to every flower it sheds...
As they hit the ground with ripples of stillness..
Unpadded silence...
Broken not even by a sigh..breaking not a heart..
As the red clouds blow past..
Promising rain...Elsewhere..
And there is a patient bliss in solitude...
In anticipating loss..
And in learning..
That desire has long since been occluded...
In love...