I have so much of love inside me
that billows like the magma inside a volcano,
always thrusting to outpour.
Holding so much of love is sometimes a pain
like the sting of a scorpion, tormenting me with the anguish in want of a beloved.
The excruciating pain is similar to the river
wallowing during incessant rains waiting to unleash the bridled water.
So much the river tries and when it can't hold anymore it breaks free and envelopes everything in its grasp;
We curse the rain, we curse the river for its madness ; we do not see its pain of holding so much for years; we only see its outbursts.
I wonder, if holding so much of love inside me will not bring devastation; who knows I will be devoured, one day, by it like the leaping flames swallow the air.
The air feeds the flame but dies in it
similarly, love which feeds the man may cause my death.


Prasupta Roy