Is it not a curse that I can't write anything but of love-love that is unrequited?
I am like the ancient mariner who was cursed for killing the albatross.
Little did he know that killing the bird would
bring in so much pain and that his remorse lay in telling his tale of woe to people he met.
He had tried a number of times to shoo the bird away, but his fate wished otherwise.
So also falling in love paved the way for my
doom.
Little did I know that treading on this path is a curse which would bring in unsurmountable pain and joy that is so cherished by all, can only be felt when I write on love.
Like the mariner I wash my pain away each time I compose poems, for, it is a blessing too living in the loving pain.

Prasupta Roy