Valediction

He wrote on my arms, his lyrics of love
And then dispatched himself
A-sail across the glass seas,
On a grandiose canoe.
Plenty of minutes to bid goodbye
Plenty of painful preparation
 The Rolling Stone, he was.
The Cheerleader. The Constant Keeper-in-Touch
Galloped away into the sunset ,
To save the world from patronizing selfishness...

...I wish I could say that.

All that was left, on the contrary,
Was me; standing like a fool in the midst of shock, unbelief, and uncertainity
And the dreadful text message
Trudged behind a dozen missed-calls.

So , No. There were no goodbyes,
no preparation, no gallant adieu
He just left!
While I was in besotted worship with the Creator Redeemer
Singing my soul out with those who He bled to save..

Proving to me yet again, that
In these instances,
Life could be nothing but a big blob of inane irony.

But yes,
The Rolling Stone, he was indeed
The Cheerleader. The Constant Keeper-in-Touch
 How does one bid farewell to one as such 



(c) Anu Madhubhashinie

Image by : MB Imran