Mingled are the souls boundless.
Whom do I leave when I leave thee!
Was I ever far away from thee,
When I had to be cut apart from thy placenta.
When the placenta of that love
Still nourishes me with the beauty of life.
I know I could never create thee ever,
Not in my greatest of all imaginations.
Such a masterpiece beauty,
And that too with pen or color,
I quit!
I sit as a beggar at thy feet mother,
For I know thou hast created me,
Protected me ever with thy unknown prayers.
Many a times in my urgency and stupidity,
I hurt thee, but I know, the ocean of thy love
Is vast to purify the polluted stream of my being.
With my puny hands, I offer unto thee,
These flowers of words, though insignificant,
Like the strokes of a child on a blank paper,
But do contain innocence and beauty of love.
(c)Manish Wadlwa 2010
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