Rumi

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So many faces, so many minds,
Yet none with whom my soul entwines.
Perhaps it is you, the one I may call mine,
Or should I wait for the stars to realign?

But never have I met a mind so rare,
A smile so tender, a gaze so debonair.
Should I silence this ache before it begins,
Or surrender once more to love’s cruel whims?

Older I am, if only by years,
Yet time bows not to age, nor to fears.
We stand not where spring's blossoms unfurl,
And I do not wish to claim or be claimed, my girl.

Meeting him felt like a whisper of fate,
A love from before, patient, innate.
Since that moment, his shadow lingers,
Perhaps I am bound by karma’s fingers.

And here I write of you and me,
Not as Donne’s Flea, nor love's decree.
I seek no pretense, no grand display,
But a verse to echo Rumi’s way.

As now I feel a sudden shift in the weather,
Happy is the moment when we sit together,
With two forms, two faces, yet one soul, you and me.
Your talks and laughs sound like a lullaby.

- Taruna Ghera.

Comments

  1. AnonymousSeptember 14, 2025 at 2:14 AM

    The ending couplet is especially enchanting, it stays with the reader.

    ReplyDelete

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