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The city wakes beneath a molten sky,
Its golden net is cast across the gray.
The fleeing shades in silent terror fly,
And night dissolves in floods of newborn day.
She walks beside, no longer flesh and bone,
But something more—a stillness clothed in flame.
Her eyes contain the skies I've never known,
Where storms are born and calmness wears her name.
No longer dream, nor ghost, nor fleeting guide,
She is the voice the silent heavens speak.
In her, my hidden hopes and fears abide,
No longer frail, but burning, fierce, unique.
And when we reach the gates of Mumbai's shore,
I know myself as never once before. |
