Mumbling #1

There was a man / whose scars are not of war but of love / who stays awake at hours near midnight / 'till the dawn breaks at the eastern sky / As he breathes, he mumbles one or two verses / about leaving and being left

There was a woman / whose another part is thousand miles beyond the sea / who runs away from loneliness / like a doe, roaming to and fro in wilderness / As she sleeps, she dreams one or two dreams / about hopes and a sealed heart

The man had nothing else to offer / but poems and prayers / that may or may not be answered / and willingness to be the sun / when winter breeze creeping in / to keep her warm like a coat / or a fireplace inside a palace

The man who was once lost,
whose scars are not of war but of love,
finally has found his direction.
Towards the final resting place,
where there is no silence at the evening,
no boundary of how much a person can love or be loved.
Where stars sing sonnets in unison,
and only the moon sleeps alone.

"And if you let me, I'd swim to you
to the cold, dark sea where you are - with burning chest -
slowly sinking,
and I will take you to the field,
where the only troubles for us are rose thorns and pebbles
and I will calm the thunders, and earthquakes, and storms,
just if you let me so."

The man looks tired, like a vagabond,
who once walked the hell - or slayed a dragon
his feet tremble, and his heart's feeble
waiting for that three words.

Words, that may or may not be answered

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On earth, poem verses and a sealed heart are waging war.

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*dedicated to a brother of mine.