Deconstructed love

 This breath is century old- the chilling breeze in the bridge,

All the bright stars are covered in silver clouds,

I have come across a long way- a long way before any of the bridges were built,

Everything was meant to melt away like the snow in my hands near the fireplace,

I have run in the woods before,

I sang the love song earlier before the morning birds chirped,

Will my eyes be tired of seeing the endless beauty that these mornings offer?

Will my soul be worn out at the peace of such bliss?

Love was never meant to be in partiality but it is,

It is not wholesome like the solitary mornings,

Even the brightest of all the shades fades away in the cruelest noon,

The freezing vibes get itchy,

But it's at the sunset point after the foggy morning when we meet at the cleared alley,

Before that, every bridge has to be burnt that we have crossed,

Before that, every soul should die before we become the awakened one!

The falsehood of self portrayed by us in various temporalities, 

Before we become whole, we have to be  parted into a thousand parts,

So, that our deconstructed selves could gather all the other fragmented selves from hindsight,

I will give you one: a deconstructed love,

Purest of all, 

So ripened yet so innocent,

Bloomed for a thousand years,

My soul yearns for that kind of love- to be heard of and to be held,

But the firework- it never stops!

The bridges never burn,

The mountains don't stoop low,

But, when you climb high, even the edgy rocks seem like a plain land.

So, shall you too! 

©® Farheen