It’s just Words

Why is everyone shocked at the sentence they have just read?

It’s not me but just words which have woven the meaning and have all said.

In this world of variable definitions, neither I have the knowledge nor do you,

How would someone examine whether the words were false or were true?

These words are just some whimsical hordes, who wander freely without a goal

Would mere fragment phrases ever bother which even the couplets can’t cajole?

The words are ages old; they were born back in the night’s loneliest dark,

But their essence was felt only when appeared in day, carved in immortal ink-mark.

Somewhere down is my heart wounded, how in this world would I find relief?

Just words are the dear companion who describes my all unjustifiable believes.

Weren’t those also the words which were written on lover’s hand or the headstone of graves?

Someday they strike back as the forgotten beloved for whom our mind did always craves.

There exists some time when the inflicted heart can’t find a shore,

Then there are only words which drops the anchor and help unbearable pain to cure.

Although the words are refusal, it’s only the silence in breathes which would say,

But one fine day when the breathing stops, it’s only words and words which would stay.

Aashish Kochhar