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She haunts me still though dawn has filled the skies,
Not in her form, but in the shape of thought.
She walks in every glance, in passing sighs,
A phantom woven deep in daylight wrought.
In every song I hear her silent tone,
A melody too soft for mortal ears.
In every face, her shifting shadows roam,
And every pause revives her shade of years.
Was she a dream, a ghost, a breath of fate?
Or Mumbai's soul in human guise arrayed?
Whatever form she wore, her power great
Unveiled the truths no silence could evade.
She taught me love that burns beyond control,
A fire reborn to sanctify the soul. |
