The end of the road
Here we are:
At the end of the road.
It was stone-paved and surrounded by nature,
soaked in laughter, dried by tears,
Held together our stories and fears —
Till this moment arrived.
When I turn around at my door,
I will see your back
Fading at a distance, only
from my conversations, memories and media
It was kind of you to walk with me till here,
You didn’t have to
(Not like I have walked with you everywhere
It is the end of the road for desire, friendship, gossip
coffee, and exchange,
The backdrop of distant trees framed.
There are devices, but we won’t be the same, ever again
The seasons we shared will not come to life, ever again
Our memories will fade, just like the pain.
I’d rather you stay, yet know well that you won’t, can’t
And honestly, don’t want to.
And there we have died and have become new beings
this moment. Refrain
from the pleasantries and the Archies wishes and feelings of a season finale
We’ll hug and part ways, never to be the same.
But you came with me till the end of this road, so that
to someone else I would do the same, only to part again,
to an unacknowledged cold wind that will lash
the remains of our shared terrain.
Let us bid farewell silently,
For only silence can carry this moment
without betrayal, with honesty
Many have spoiled these moments with eloquence, emotions and tears.
Our radiant images will remain a dying flicker,
Our words will turn softer,
we will discover new pain
Our burdens will seem lighter and
we will soon have nothing to say
Yet we will be tempted to feel there is more to this nothingness
we were always preparing for,
even before we met.
You will appear again, once in a blue moon
The unsaid will be heard again,
the unframed frowns and glances
and the stray words will sound again,
leaving a mysterious Why,
which will never be right to ask about, ever again
May be it was then, but not now.
You will be heard again, when I wash the sink,
Or stand in queue, or wake up or alight from the train,
or when that song is played somewhere, again.
It is the end of the road, let us
blow out the candle, before
it struggles to keep itself burning.
It is the end of the road,
The very end. Isn’t it?