Plucked

Rowing the muddy boat right up to the shore

Of the vast oceans that don’t seem so calm,

Along the windy pathway, a light

Succumbed all the Time, and what was right.

Looking, just looking

But the pale little fisherman

Knew nothing;

Thought of crying out a song,

Not merry at all.

While keeping the place messy-

Fish bones, old boots and catches

Not so perfect;

Diminishing a life which was worth ashes.

A figure in a crimson dress,

Whilst swaying with the darkness of the night

(The moon was not as bright),

Serenading the omnipresent being;

With a humble hand, a dancer

Had come this way to entertain the wild beasts.

Centuries ago, a story intertwined the mysterious form

Whom nobody had seen, so beautiful;

“I am yours, my master”, she said while she brew,

Looking at the forest that grew.

The fisherman followed her tiny little footsteps

Blown,

He wanted her

To be his own.

Thunder caused her to shriek and shout,

But the trees, they took her in

Like a cloud.

Collapsing as well,

Unto their arms,

The fisherman’s ankle

Had caught a branch.

Over and over, they gushed through the dense

While animals gaped, the Dancer cleansed,

The stranger seemed unaware, unshaken;

Contrasting the shiver and screams of, now, the fisherman.

Reaching aground she noticed him

Shaking and stirring, plucking leaves,

First his eyes and then his heart,

“Who are you?” asked the surprised beauty.

“Your embracer”, said he.

Seeking the deemed world

That often, naïve people hid in;

Wrath and pain combine

A dream was made big.

Walking with burden,

Stroking nothing, but the bait,

His life, it changed;

And change brought him

Bigger things than what he aimed.

Unnatural strength and endurance

Never known.

Mystified bounds of orchids

Everywhere, were sown.

A step at a time,

But no step less,

Came vast hurdles

And Gods to bless.

Journeying around

Nurturing the Old and Needy;

Looking beyond the borders

Was fast and easy.

“Can one ever get tired of their wants?”,

Asked the fisherman, one summer morning

To which the Dancer replied with taunt -

“Oceans are vast, but they keep collecting water,

 Summers are lost, but they keep getting hotter,

 Prayers are not always answered, but they become longer,

 When belief is challenged, it becomes stronger”

The point was made clear

But the love still clot,

For the fisherman was human,

But the Dancer was not.

Truthfully, the fisherman was hurt,

He felt cared for, not loved.

A Helper, a healer, that’s all he was,

He left her two winters later

And he was gone.

Waking up one morning

He felt the urge to decide

“To love and be loved back

I have to give up my pride”.

The same night, the dancer came in his dream

She sung and danced

And told him to sleep.

Seeing her, he didn’t want her to leave

She vanished into the forest,

Crying, he finally fell asleep.

Twenty years later,

She came again,

Crept in his dream like a shadow,

He was entertained.

Surprised, but instead of

Wanting more,

He turned on the lights

And told her to go -

“I don’t need you

 Anymore,

 For I have people who I love

 My children are my burden lost,

 And my wife is my trust.

 While they gave me love

 To forget my pride,

 I’ll never forget you,

 For you gave me Life”.

The Dancer was happy

For he had finally understood,

She bid him farewell

To help another Loner and do him good.