O Sensation!

In a rash moment you were gone, with passion running high in veins
and overflowing from every pore of body, you played with me dangerous games.

Seeking thrill of intimacy more intense, in the game of love displaying coyness;
you wanted me to come chasing after, seek you harder;
begging and pleading, to placate, and so, you barred me with a barricade,

I, on the other hand, was brimming over with you,
raging passion consumed inhaled air too;
I felt deprived of breath, and it mattered,
instead of dissolving, I was shattered.

What is love but a state of imagination,
nothing enlivens it more than the fire of passion.
Desire, the ardent and the eternal,
It’s divine posing as carnal;
The beast,
At the same time blinded, strong, and rampant,
on a rampage chasing after your scent.

Breathless and on fire, I nearly died, and you I blamed;
never turning back though, refusing to be tamed.
And yet, memories of that elevated state persist,
otherwise I have no reason to exist.

Though there are thoughts that engulf me:
Why not just burn, rather than be?

(Years passed. My solitude still whispers the word into my ear. Magical, which makes things bow to me- touch me only with their most tender core; vibrant pulse of language, and meaning “life”. A delight, I can feel sizzling on my tongue whenever I say it. It's your name.)

O Sensation! lay on me you claim,
what beats inside my heart is your name.

Your name, a residual fire burning in me, a remnant of how I was aflame with you.

Your name, key to all my memories, a summation of me.

Your name, your absence walking with me in your image.

Name, the infinite standing between absence and death.

-Pulastya