Shakespeare in Love

[Nikunj Bansal]

For what is love,
that does not rain in desert;
hurries the tongue,
and cripples the world.

The white line on white paper,
the white ink of my endless love,
it shivers no more,
for its united in you.

The light of my eye,
the beat of my heart,
the blood in my vein,
every thought in my head.

Shapeless, formless,
unnamed, unborn,
sitting beside me,
but not any more.

For whom, for what?
Till when, no answers.
For me, for my love?
Fake man, real pursuit.

The reason begs for a rhyme,
The rhyme begs for a reason,
what love can end,
that begs for a beginning.