Special Thoughts for Special People

Well, this is an old one. Pretty old one. These thoughts have been burgeoning in the embers of the heart for eons, it seems now. There were small spurs, and there were gushing waves. But the love and the energy contained in them is just as potent. The exposition I came to understand depends a lot on what is going on in the mind at that time. This is an old one. Pretty old one. There has been small successes and big failures. There have been embarrassing exposes. There have been smothering moments of closeness. Some of anger, some of attention, some even of negligence. But they have all been witnesses to the same love and energy that binds us over miles and miles. So i wanted to test this theory, to see if these lines, that come long after the actual event, sailing through snaps and jibes, and still maintaining their closeness in spite; are still the same special lines for the most special people there are!

The glow of mercury in the capillary
 'Tis Neither prime nor ancillary...
'Tis no sign, no indication
 till it rises to the occasion.

In summers, like the waters in the sand,
 Smelt with the silicon, but none on hand,
Cooked with the sizzling vapors in the sun
 The sand remains watching sadly
the only hint of tranquility cleft badly
 to pursue priorities now different, now risen.

Sand burns and dries,
 weeps and cries,
The winds of time will blow it away
 Will take it to new lands
And will hold it in sway
 Till tasks culminate, till the gale blows through
Pollen on abandoned gardens in May.
 Thirsty for the moistness
that once held its life together!

The water however hasn't gone anywhere.
 Lured to its chores , by time's demand
Away from the care, Away from its pair
 It gazes at the grain of sand
From whence it remains...
 From the gush of the rivulet
From the dew on the plains
 From sparkle on the amulet
From the whims on the clouds.

I see today, that the energy that binds
 the pollen to the drop
is the same that blew the pollen atop
 gardens, vales and grinds
Tis the same that warmed the drop
 to wet the flowers
Tis the same that brought it to the clouds
 and drench the lovers

The energy remains and so does the love
 So do the drops and so do the pollen
they just move from land to clove
 their hearts full, and eyes swollen