Ode to Ends
As sea turn into rivers, and rivers back into trickles,
We reach the beginning of the end.
The stream; we watch it dry
like the silent words unspoken between you and I.
As inches turn into feet, and feet turn into miles,
I ponder when the last meter would end.
I have a time bomb in my hand.
Ticking, it is ticking away the time we have left.
So, I pray, let it end.
Let this painful, torturous, tedious, energy-sapping
Would I hurt? Would I cry? No-
Would you hurt; and would you cry?
We can't turn back the time, or let it rewind.
If we could, I say, if we could,
I think I would rather not have known you,
to spare you, and maybe myself too, of all these pains.
[Original Poem on Live & Dictate]