Quest of love


If you count,
The dark bruises of love,
On hands and feet of mine,
You realize,
The forests of Ireland,
Need to expand,
The border of their growth,
To sum it up.

There is no place,
For safety,
When one faces the unknown longing.

It is called,
The less travelled path,
Full of danger,
Specialized in unplanned twists.

Guess where,
The adventurous heart of mine,
Chose to land,
In a middle of cold, dark winter night.

With no shelter,
No outside light,
No place to hide,
Or wait for sun to rise.

The heart got charmed,
By mysterious quest of love.

Too late to rethink,
Or take a calculated risk.
Matters of heart,
Always ask for all one has to give,
Or should take on.

Under silver light of a new moon,
Shadow of doubts,
Became unspeakable burden
To carry on.

Over the high hills of enlightenment,
Under depth of dark valleys
Of open wounds and dead skins,
Desperate to heal,
Heart walks in tears.

Finally with a fresh breeze of spring,
The horizon of new frontiers arrives.

Someone within stands up,
Covered with healed wounds and cuts,
Smile on her face,
Shows a path ahead.
In her hands,
Torch of love burns,
Lighten up a new path to take.

Heart knows now,
The quest of love has no end.

© Serena Devi, Jan 2010, Thornhill Canada

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