Love

She a mere fledgling in this humongous set up, 

Still pursuing the bonds that are forever meant to be, 

Her hoping eyes not acquiring the steady gaze

Of the second half of her whole.

 

One moon, when it seemed like two had passed, 

On an unsuspecting mundane Monday, 

She trudged along to win her bread

And who knew then her day would be special made.

 

For, after seemingly many moons of languor,

Her hoping eyes finally gazed at the panacea of moiety, 

The second half which epiphanously she sought

Per Savitri, who would bring voice to what in her was mute. 

 

His seductive peace summoned her roving eyes, 

Caught unaware by the deep impression his peace had on her, 

It brought down the pride she had of her own peace 

As his more profound and penetrating than hers ever was. 

 

Soul had spoken to soul and spirit to spirit, 

Though her nincompoop self could detect a Presence, 

A gossamer of The hand at work, 

She spoke not a word to him. 

 

Many moons passed by still, 

Then he broke the silence with her, 

The first form of physical communication, 

A simple line asking about the welfare of a client. 

 

Seemingly innocous and unremarkable the banter, 

Unless able are you to perceive the unspoken intuition, 

Time and again epiphany had raised its hood

For her to keep remembering her Higher goal-him. 

 

The remainder of the story will be told but not today, 

Nothing happens in the cosmic play but at its time and foreseen place, 

And it is but a work in progress for both need to pacify karma

So each is only to each alone. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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