All the big words of this world,
Have now gone away. On a vacation.
Let me, Now, Explain to you,
What I mean, when I say ‘I Love You’.
Words they say, (those who have them) are crucial.
Where would My Love in that case stand?
On this road, where words offer,
No shelter and no refuge.
Blame the politics.
Of meaning, of subjectivity and the word.
If I fail.
Lesser mortal, lesser words, half evolved phrases,
Define me. Not my love.
The mighty task of pushing the barrier,
For the words that speak for me.
There is stuff that I want to say, I have to say.
Do I need a new vocabulary? What words shall I retain?
I have now been studying the past,
An urge to know words as they were,
Pure unburdened simple and responsive.
Like my Love is. Like my Love shall be.
On the risk of being called,
A drifter, wayward and perhaps
with luck a 'rebel.'
I shall cast out words.
Those that have now, become holy cows.
Realisation stuck me.
Words have become obsolete.
Not worn out, but tired out,
Waiting to be put to use.
But, then,
How shall I say, what I wish to say?
Perhaps just the same way,
When we sat on the steps,
Desolated statue of Gandhi being the only witness.
Where nothing much was said,
A lot was heard.
Even more was understood.
