BY ANKITA DUTTA
Love is ebony,
Love is pale,
Love is a rainbow.
Love is a puppy wagging its tail,
Love is the crescent of a dark night,
Love is a path to the woods.
Love is a story to be perused afresh,
Love is a faith for gay sunshines,
Love is the elixir of all malaise,
Love is an academic validation.
Love is an unsolicited act of benevolence,
Love is the blushing peek of a sweetheart,
Love is chuckling with pals.
Love is traversing through the convulsions of continuance,
Love is the strength to keep stimulating ahead.
Love is a poet’s verse,
Love is the aroma of homemade food,
Love is the warmth of a mother.
Love is mindfulness and meditation,
Love is the role we enact.
Love is self-discovery,
Love is the conviction to endure.
Love is a lifestyle,
Yet we are terrified of love.
Conventions are painful,
Scrutiny is painful,
A darling’s demise is a pain.
A murky winter day is painful,
An endless solitary journey is a pain,
Incessant agony is painful.
A lethal contagion is a pain,
A crumbling semester is painful,
Reckless judgements are painful.
Unrequited affection is a pain,
Splintered brotherhood is a pain,
A virtuoso devoured by humanity is a pain.
Abiding in antiquity is pain,
Dearth of ingenuity is painful,
Metamorphosing to persist is painful.
Frigidness of mankind is painful,
Abandoning the scheme of life is painful,
Amalgamating with chaos is painful.
Stifling individual fancies is painful,
Conjuring death is painful.
Surviving itself is a pain,
Pain howbeit is willingly favored.
Ankita Dutta, born and brought up in the suburbs of Kolkata, writes when the amalgamation of words in her head can no longer be suppressed. A contemplative student, she finds pleasure in reading and observing. Trying to live many lives and create a niche in the galaxy, the young poet is afraid to be lost and forgotten in the cosmos of time.