Thee shalt not asketh for love, For thee art grown up now

What this body is

But a mosaic of broken elements

Of collapsed stars and gleaming galaxies

What art thou hold?

That you grow only from outside

And still, longs for that tender touch

Yet vulnerable,

So vulnerable on the inside!

With broken knees and bleeding elbows

Again it makes way to join broken cerols

Running miles to touch the sky

When all it was, but a kite

What this body is?

But, an aftermath of a storm

A consequence of catastrophe

With tattered bones and fragmented soul

Collecting drops in cupped hands

From broiling sun to save its world

The one set on fire, not by strangers



What this body is...

But a few hundred pieces of

Crystals glued together, or

Just a Symphony emanating from

Woven strings of sunsets and moonlight

I told my pieces and

explained my heart

"Thee shalt not asketh for love

For thee art grown up now"

What this body is

Broken and beaten

From pieces to ashes

Still asketh for a pinch of care

For shades of warmth in scorching despair!

I explained my heart

"You shall not ask for love

For you, are a grown up now!"

Hots:

1. Thee shalt not asketh for love for thee art grown up now - You are grown up now, for you shall not ask for love.


2. Cerol- Thread used for flying kites (Manjha in India)

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