It is possible this conversation will remain incomplete Poem by Prabodh Parikh

It is possible this conversation will remain incomplete.
The rising hand,
The stepping foot,
The alerted ears,
The opened eyes.
It is possible, it will begin now.

Stunned
Suddenly stopping
At the edge
Waiting
For something -
The faces
Will speak up.
It is possible, their speech will echo.

The echo's form, colour and shape,
Its "one from the heart"
Its frozen gesture
In crevices of which
Twitch tiny, dew laden possibilities
It is possible, these will shine out very soon.

It is possible the conversation will be about us,
Carved in the midst of passing time.
Wings of birds
Resting or
Being flung about in the winds or
Eager for flight
It is possible, the wings will flutter.

Assume that this conversation will remain incomplete.
Colours of space will continue to spill
Lightly sketched faces will continue to be drawn
Terrified by wonder, they will continue to scatter.
Assume that we will bear
This conversation continuing within us.

It is possible.
In spite of that,
It is possible.