The Key

By Bhavana Sivakumar

A single feet poem in the forest. The forest trembled on the feet planted in the poem. The search rolled.. The sky was dry.... The cloud that broke the silence rained, The man who lost his focus was wet in the rain, The whole forest was crawling in the big vision with small eyes..... The forests Reaching is the leap of the mind.. Still, his mind was struggling and leaping... He was walking and looking back, looking back and looking back..... The path he came to was making a mirage, a mirage. His lamentation could be felt if he listened closely...the symbol of crying was this rain….

The one who looked up until yesterday, the one who crossed her fingers, the one who leaned on her lap, the suddenly broken rainbow is lifted and carried as a mystical cross.... Not only joining is love.. also parting.... Even philosophy becomes a mistake and results in a woman's betrayal.... If you ask, the woman's heart is deep., they say that an unopened lock is always waiting in silence .. They say that time will heal the breathlessness of the open men's window by slamming it, turn your attention.

He couldn't easily accept the fact that the woman who gives him love all the time, snatches it away when he gets the chance, as a part of love.... Is any bird cheating on his lover? Why only man keeps on changing his face with treachery, deceit, deception. There is no more left in him who is wet....here is human doubt........is the wetness rain, is he tears......?

His subconscious believed that every passing tree was receiving a lesson. The small drop that touched the leaf., his feet vibrated with big drops of smile, it felt that he agreed to give flowers for wreaths to his impending suicide....

He can say now that the country is a forest.....such a forest and a view based on the forest....He started to feel it in these thirty minutes of climbing the mountain. A feeling beyond the time of feeling.....Let my death's ode drip like acid in the ears of the departed one....Let the last scene of my corpse be imprinted in the mirror of her condition....Let my blood flow in the minutes of her death...The pain of love is not only death.. Every day she realizes that life is even life, let her laugh every day.

He was getting close....... He was getting closer looking at the white horse running up the top of the hill and kicking and clawing... The one who had poured out her love for the whole life, when she left her little finger, she was slipping into the smoke of no one.... there was a fire and burning.... a small nest built by an unknown bird for him....

Mountain top... death's door. The whip-wielding lover was teaching that the claws of death scratched the flower at every mound that rolled from the cascade of the dead leaping below...merge in the river...the boon to deny the bitters. It was... it was fertilizer to kill the beloved... it was more fun to lose than to find.... He was getting ready.. his legs were shaking.. love was stumbling... his girlfriend was letting the butterfly fly around.. his eyes were rolling.... Like

the world is dark….

That swarm of ants, now they have missed again, the key that they have been carrying for so long... they are coming down slowly as if the key is stuck in a rock alley and standing upright... again the swarm of ants is trying to lift the key... same speed, the same appeal . Even a snake is still a snake.... but poetically.....Who is she running in search of whom she wears a lamb as an inspiring poem.. Yes, the water that is full of love, it is the moment that feels warm to search for the forest. ... No.... He feels that the finger of continuation has caught him.... He thinks that a suicide has planted something that does not make him angry with his girlfriend now.... Even if he is separated, he is still a lover. Who knows.. Is the falling rain the death of failure...? All that is left of life swimming is moaning.... He is moaning.... He can't feel the rain and can only wake up....

He sees with troubled eyes that the hands that should have spent time for his beloved are losing their function and the flowers are falling... How wonderful. Forest and life and love….. what is lost in love…..how will the heat of the joined hands cool down in moments….he swings his legs and thinks….selfishness. The greed of her to be with him.. The bird's Love is in flight...

She must have taken the mind of the one she left behind....Death with an unintelligible mind is also waking up without understanding. Suicide death never develops love. It keeps diminishing love throughout time....the dead person's mind is clear. Running... Wild and restless love.... Blank wall and staring gallery.. Live and see after leaving... Love lives.. He can't even cry. He has begun to creep into the arrangements for a trip.

How can suicide be the solution when life itself is not the solution? Not searching and getting lost is the same thing.. Searching for love is life. Here, standing on the top of the rock, his eyes were rolling....in his eyes, a plant growing on a rock a little to the right had a beautiful flower. The flower, the petal red and the face of his beloved standing with eyes closed, the world became bright. Why die to rise from the mind like an appearance? Beloved broke up by herself…..no love….living in the world where she lives is love…seeing the sky she saw is love…. My longing is greater than that....

She is the flower of the mountain..... He is the wind....

It started to rain like an auspicious rain....the blind man slowly started coming down from the hill...he was coming down....the one who came down a little, was walking carrying the butterfly of joys.....

The swarm of ants now picked up the key from behind. , once again blocked the foot... The crowd of ants thought that the key would fall in front of them and ran forward to pick up the key....

The woman who was standing on the same top rock was wet with rain or wet with a drop of tears. The forest, the mountain and the rain believed that the girl who was watching the falling river with wide eyes, with her head wide open, would jump at a moment's notice... Yes, it happened... it was a terrible burden, suicide.....Now the swarm of ants is walking with the key that has fallen in front of them, and the key is stuck in a flower plant and is standing straight…slightly distracted, he suddenly turns to look at her…..

‘’The swarm of ants still haven't found the key….’’

By Bhavana Sivakumar