Belief Born Of Conjugal Bed Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

If I love you no more on morrow's date,
Would you still be indulgent to me, dear?
I ask, for, comes from same mint love and hate,
Reality is not what may appear.

Now that you know the truth let me this say:
Material things in world, alive and not,
Mere gossamer clouds are in a strange way,
An atom, you know, is an empty blot.

So, you and I as all, of atoms made,
Scarce are there in this world that's seldom there!
Is anything real out there as you said?
If there is, I'd never know to be fair.

Your doubt cast in if, born be of belief,
Unreal, it falls off mind like an old leaf.
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Sonnets |06.11.2017|