The fountain


— Jyotirmoy Bhattacharya



When it started, it was a feeling completely alien,
a simple but intense rush of adrenalin.
I could hardly move, as I struggled to even breathe.
Yes, beauty can be enormously lethal at times!

Then, it was the usual story, the usual dreams,
the usual sleepless realizations, the futility of all things.
But the loud clatter when these dreams shatter,
makes you deaf; yes, deaf to all subtleties.

The rose is pale, the trees are no longer green,
the sunsets have lost their lovely tinge,
the dark clouds lack the silver fringe
and the rainbow is no more seen.

Is it pity or remorse? Admiration or irritation?
I can hardly guess.
All I know is that it is surely some kind of spell,
As I loose all sanity, when I bathe in the lightfall of that gaze.

No, it does not hurt anymore; but the pain has left a deep wide numbness.
Also it has other rich gifts.
That naughty little twist under those lips,
reveals to me the enigma behind Monalisa’s smile.
Now, blinded by a dreadful fire of a strange wild passion,
I can see through things!

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