16 November, 2008
To the child yet unconcieved
The little one...
Are you being formed in me as I speak?
Is it really possible that an ecstasy so pure can give rise to a gratification even more perfect?
Can u feel my interiors churning n tumbling to envelop you?
Will you be coming soon or be drained down again with my hopes?
And when you will get formed...
Will my wobbly existence be strong enough to clasp you?
Will the inside of me accept you with just as prominence as the outside of me would project you?
Will I be able to nourish you with all I have or flush you with the turbulence of my moods n reflections?
And when you do come out...
How would it feel to hold your petite identity with my unsure fingers?
How would it seem possible that a tiny creation like you would overshadow my all encompassing essence?
How would that embrace be when I would press you against me n crush all emotions else?
How would I deal with it when I would hold your little fingers and you would take me to a journey unknown?
You would come, wouldn’t you?
Otherwise how would it feel to be stuck in these questions forever?
I hope you can hear me...as I speak...