Knowing Is Ignorance Poem by Lalit Kaira

She met me in a story,
she was as fresh as a virgin capitulum Of barley
in fabulous February
the sun flashed in her grin.
She loved to kill
and killed to redeem,
came from the smog and like a thundering beam
danced and decay the world
in you.
She had no shadow
and a stagnant heart beat under her cruel breast.
The teller portrayed her a godly demon
whose stabs were worth undergo.
Soon we part. I came out of the tale
and took my way
to deep dark woods.
It was the month of May
we met again, not in the story
but this time in a song
of her own
that I found near a rivulet beside a desolate cave...
She was in pain and crying
her 'teller' ruined her.
She looked as a stale piece of stinky bread
under the schroching sun.
She was killed by love
and was loved to subjugate.
Came from the mist and covered everything, and ate
the voices of consciousness for there were no souls
mere bodies: full of lust
lust for power, for wealth
for wisdom, for flesh.
She had no body, she was a shadow then.
Before the song speared, I was thrown out.
She closed her blazing eyes
and whispered "see you soon,
but that time in you, ha! we both
will drink a cocktail of life and death."
I cry, I laugh, I hide, I loath
The Treasure in me has been lost..
I wait for her
and wait for her.