You Die; I Die - Love Poems - Part 2 by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

42. INCOMPLETE 

Every cloud in the cosmos was incomplete without rain; the water that instilled signs of life in the dead; after cascading down,

Every wave in the sea was incomplete without raw salt; the granules of tanginess embedded, that granted it a ravishing aroma,

Every pearl incarcerated within the slimy oyster was incomplete without its shine; the scintillating glow that crowned it the king of all gems,

Every flower protruding from the soil was incomplete without its petals; the intricate furls of crimson that inundated the air with a rejuvenating fragrance,

Every bird soaring in the sky was incomplete without its wings; the slender flaps of skin that engendered it to fly,

Every patch of earth was incomplete without mushy grass; the tendrils of enchanting green; which voluptuously tingled the feet,

Every mountain was incomplete without its summit; the towering peaks that profoundly distinguished it from the ordinary lumps of mud,

Every lion transgressing through the dense jungle was incomplete without its growl; the thunderous sound that petrifies all animals in vicinity; to the last bone of their spine,

Every desert was incomplete without its sands; the golden crystals of slippery soil that flew rampantly in the air with the rustic breeze,

Every star in the sky was incomplete without its twinkle; the omnipotent shimmer diffusing from its demeanor,

Every dungeon was incomplete without darkness; the appalling gloom that encompassed it in entirety,

Every cactus extruding from scorched mud was incomplete without its thorns;

the acrimonious bristles; which stabbed like infinite burnt needles when caressed,

Every snake slithering through the marshy swamps was incomplete without

is venom; the poison impregnated in its fangs that strangulated its victim to

ghastly death,

Every fire burning was incomplete without its flames; the leaping wisps of

blistering smoke that wafted out as an aftermath,

Every man was incomplete without a moustache; the black bush of hard hair

embodied stringently to his lips,

Every temple was incomplete without god; the omnipresent aura inhabiting each

space, that created us all,

Every mother was incomplete without her child; the innocuous infant that suckled milk from her chest,

Every heart was incomplete without its vivacious beat; the throbbing pulse embedded that unleashed life,

And every life was incomplete without love; the person who made it feel special; the person who made it feel the reason to be blissfully alive