By: Pramod Rastogi

Wistful Horizons

Frail in the sirens of health,
Withdrawn in pensive silence,
I was a shadowed figure,
A whisper in the din of social lives,
Until the day she walked in,
And friendship bloomed between us,
Seemingly eternal,
Like a dream turned tangible.

I had just crossed into my teens.
Together, we grew through innocent games,
Blindfolds, cards, and endless stories,
Bonding beneath moonlit skies,
Her laughter threading through the night.
Her presence sharpened my will;
Every step, every triumph
Gained meaning when she was near.

Our friendship soared,
And so did our quiet affection,
Until it became a tide,
Sweeping us into a bond unseen,
Youth eclipsing our childhood games.
Then one day, she asked,
With courage cloaked in tenderness:
“Could we not be one, always?”

Unready for such earnest grace,
I faltered, trapped in my unease.
Her words, spun with love and hope,
Could not pierce the veil of fear
That clouded my heart.
Hypnotic doubt held me still,
The moment spiraling beyond my grasp,
Retracing me to paths unwalked.

Her light dimmed before my silence,
A luster once bright, now cast aside.
She drifted into her thoughts’ shadow,
And I, too stubborn to yield,
Watched as destiny cast its dice.
A moment’s frailty had its cost —
An unbridged chasm of silence
Grew between her heart and mine.

Too far, we were, to mend the gap;
Too late, the lessons of regret.
I left no room to alter my fate,
And so I tread a wistful path,
Haunted by a love unspoken,
A past that lingers, unescaped.

Paths Unseen

Life is a ship adorned in divine attire,
Its course beyond need of definition,
Neither the path on which it glides
Nor the ports where it must anchor
Are known upon setting sail.

Its route is etched in what we call destiny,
Invisible, shifting, and unseen.
Whether viewed with faith or doubt,
It whispers turbulent truths —
Filling some voids, like water in sponge,
Leaving others dry, untouched.

Life is the sum of many unknowns,
And therein lies its strange beauty:
The rueful tapestry of our becoming.

Destiny — or the denial of it —
Are myths in their own right,
Mere cargoes of values and views.

Still, life bonds, carries, and shares
With souls of all colors and creeds,
Calling us to dream beyond ourselves,
To mold a collective awakening,
So we may live with deep compassion
And in sacred kinship with nature.