The word is less seductive now.
Like an aging damsel whose skin
Is losing shine, whose face a pale
shadow of her riveting gleam.
The word has a rare prankish twinkle.
A knowing wink at me, my obsession
With its bewitching spirals of truths
That tantalize in the changing twilight!
The word knows its invincible presence.
It knows it is the ultimate sojourn
Where a wayfarer seeks his toehold
And an erudite pilgrim makes his peace.
“You have to come to me”, is its refrain.
"I am ageless though you may fade away
I am beyond hurt, decay and destiny
‘cause I shape your mind and your world."
