Friday, 7 July 2017


This is another attempt to present love metaphorically. In this tiny little poem, the 'treasure' is a metaphor for love. In the life of a human being, we are entangled with the various tornado of emotions, perhaps, that's what differentiates us from 'animals', at least we love to hope so. Certain emotions are unexpressed, and those emotions haunt you the most, at least when you allow it. I hope you can relate to this poem.

Beneath the shallowest of the shallow bed of the trench, 
the treasure sleeps even today, 
waiting and panting for the unachievable. 
After so many years of preservation, 
preservation of the secret, 
I don't know how far the treasure has converted itself into a liability.  

After decades of failure, 
after the inception of the realisation of the lost paradise, 
you pay a cost, 
a cost for not granting freedom to your treasure, 
a cost of keeping it hidden from the cruel world, 
an investment made to preserve it without, 
any return to enjoy the slightest bit of it. 

Perhaps, it wasn't something to enjoy or express, 
it's something to preserve and die with.

You express it and you feel the insecurity of losing it,
you don't express it and you lose it. 

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