Unfinished

By Harshita Gupta

Thick books

with thin pages

so difficult to find the one on which our stories complete;

like the world is getting smaller

yet we can’t find the one

our soul matches with.

This is it

perhaps the way

we will be,

our life painted by a blind,

like canvas in blue and grey

but wanted to kiss the shades of pink,

like brush used for careful strokes

but wanted to make a bold blow.

Maybe the painter of our fate was blind;

maybe God is blind.

But what if we meet again,

under the shadow of stars

our souls creeping out of our coffins

to give ourselves another chance.

That’s when perhaps we will exhibit

the three states of matter.

Like iron blocks,

we couldn’t confide into each other

but like water we will be one,

for we renounced bodily pleasure.

And so like vapor

we would be impalpable

we could be just felt

in breath.

By Harshita Gupta