What it really is

He strokes my hair with sunlight
and lays his palm before each step,
so I may tread.

When he whispers in my ear,
the ocean dance begins,
flowing waves of abundance.

My heart is swelling
from the pain of fullness
and his smell in the air.

There is much to say,
but tonight I am drunk
on the closeness of his face.

A word on this love:
every word I write will betray what it really is.

This poetry comes not from words,
only union.

This entry was posted in IPI, Poem, Psychology. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to What it really is

  1. Sandeep says:

    Speaking of the “heart swelling of pain of fullness”, these are some verses from the Irish poet A.E (George William Russell) which had been quoted in a correspondence between a disciple and Sri Aurobindo

    The unattainable beauty,
    The thought of which was pain,
    That flickered in eyes and on lips
    And vanished again;
    That fugitive beauty
    Thou shalt attain.

  2. Abha Kaul says:

    Beautifully explained.’IT’ Is ‘The Divine’.

  3. Amit Gujral says:

    Truly beautiful .. the pain of fullness.. of a heart bursting with the need to proclaim and share perhaps?

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