Curtains

I saw two curtains sway,
as the fan overhead beat;
one no more chaotic than the other.

In between them, I saw a single streetlight
fluttering into and out of my sight,
blocked by the kisses the curtains shared.

Not a single fibre in their whole composition
was able to stop their motion that day.
They swayed and swayed as if to their content,
a thousand kisses exchanged every second.

The light beat,
The fan beat,
The curtains beat,
But I stayed still.

There was nothing that could move me;
No force that could strain me again.
No love.
No torture.

I may have condescended on their fate,
for their frivolous play seemed doomed to fail.

Because I knew -

once the fan died off and the lights came on,
their little games would draw to an end;
not by choice, not by desire,
but by the workings of this world.

- by Paul Immanuel (Thambu)