A Tryst with myself

Lost and restless, one night I sat awake Wondering what gives darkness its color My thoughts clouding, I felt an urge to rake And so I began to ponder In my window I saw a beacon As pretty as a monk, as divine as a God I felt my ego weaken As I gazed at what my imagination had just conjured up * What is love, I asked my angel It’s a bird, always out of reach? He said, with eyes twinkling like a jewel It’s a whim, a mirage to only those who seek! prynka