“And all I loved, I loved alone”- Edgar Allen Poe.
I remember reading the poem for the first time. And for a moment it was quite like looking into a mirror. I read in a go, holding my breath, each following line quicker than the preceding one, and falling into a ready agreement as it built into a story. Then I read it again, pondering over each line. And I often ponder over it still. Over the beauty of these wayward wishes. Over the strength and magic of these dynamic dreams. Over the price you pay for these perverse pleasures.
A blazing streak of fire,
That burnt through the night sky,
Yet a glance is all it took,
For the spark never left your eye.
I’ve been chasing wildly since,
Or is it a wild goose chase?
Behind that burning passion,
That stays unrequited, at its best.
Should have known better but all I know
Is this only way TO BE.
The heart feels, unmistaken,
What the eyes refuse to see.
To find a source of strength,
In the face of pain.
To give every inch of you,
In a gamble there’s nothing to gain.
To wear your heart on your sleeve,
And have your breath taken away.
To be fuelled by a purpose,
Both defining and vain.
Best left to it, are matters of the heart,
Driven with a spirit that could tear the skies apart,
Only a fool would want its roots unearthed
And who’s to question what it was worth
If life had better cards to deal,
On this wayward trail I’d still choose to struggle
And build with fervour, in vibrant shades,
A beautifully distorted jigsaw puzzle