While exploring the bittersweet ache of yearning, the Rose and the Nightingale question the weight of secrets.
Said the Rose,
For years I buried,
To reveal, never hurried.
I hid on the farthest branch,
Away even from my own reach.
Saved from the winds of Time,
As an ancient picture in frame.
But now, out of my fault,
Opened to your heart’s vault.
I moved the lid
Of my love dormant,
To a bit of yearning
I gave vent.
Hey, the love-crazy ones, note!
You have seen only a part.
The secret of life
Is to be said only half.
Leave a little untold, for
Truth’s too heavy to hold.
Hey, the Nightingale,
Obsessed in my thoughts,
How shall you know
My dormant love suffering?
This tale shall continue
Till the end,
Whether you choose
To part or befriend.
Replied the Nightingale,
Let your love be not told,
The entire you withhold.
I sang not with the intent
To resurrect the dormant.
I only want you to feel:
From the worry, pain heal.
To kindle in you new hope,
To a joyful future elope.
Hey, Rose dear!
Take me not to task
About my craze don’t ask.
To confine my heart
Is indeed hard.
Let me feast alone my pain,
Be soaked in the tears-rain.
You weren’t destined in my fate,
Yet your thoughts hauntingly smite.
These borrowed words,
Not truly mine,
Madness too
Plays games divine.
Therefore, ignore my song,
My madness: a story long.
July 01 2010. Edit March 2024
