At the brimming tides of Nagaon

The unbounded joy of the surging waves,
As if they couldn't wait to reach the shore.
They remind me of my own eager footfalls,
Each time I set forth to see you.

When at last they merge,
When water and land consume each other,
Like lips meeting lips, or like book meeting reader,
Thirst and satiation become one.

As the waters sweep over me,
I try and clasp their memory in my fist.
But as a dear old poet once wrote,
Time shall have its fancy, tomorrow or today.

And so inexplicably I find myself deceived.
They are gone all too soon, and I am left
With the residue of their love story in my palm -
A murky map of abandoned dreams.

So too are the homeless debris of my mind,
Like ghosts fading into the ocean.
But before I am allowed to mourn, they return,
New waves promising new dreams.

And so we play our respective roles,
Mortal souls in an immortal story.
The sun, the moon, and the waves indulge us,
And for a moment, we like to think our footprints won't wash away.