Why do I feel so complete in this insignificance?
How is there ease in this indifference?
What is that invisible strength in continuance?
And somewhere, but where, is there power in interdependence?
Why is there hate in resistance?
Perhaps some love in the vengeance?
How is there more truth than lie in pretense?
Is there any value to my existence?
That's too many questions with answers
Welling up with awkward suspense.
Sadly or joyfully, this is what my mind does
In lonesomeness-
This is who I am, without your presence-
An ugly ensemble of questionnaire,
A silly soul so bizarre.
Yet how my heart floats when you are near,
Your smile absorbs the uncountable doubts I smear
All over myself, your words mutate my haze into crystal clear
Water- providing worth to my blankness- I overcome all fear!
Is it extreme to ask for a promise of more than a lifetime with you,
Knowing how tomorrow has a million things of which I am unsure?
Do you know I am your greatest admirer
who stares in awe no matter what you do?
How is it that to my insanity, you
And only you are the cure?
That's indeed too many questions to ask,
Yet how effortlessly all the answers lead to you,
Just like how we are meant to be,
You and me- through and through...
~ Kripa Sarkar
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