Like a desert storm,
She burst into your life
Sprinkling the barren landscape of your existence
With drops of unmediated purity
Like Van Gogh's brush, the belle danced around you
Splashing wild, violent, unrestrained colors
Of dreams, joy, bliss.
Child-like strokes of pastel love
Unleashed on to the canvas of
The misanthrope's soul
The absconding savant was startled
At this tryst with fate.
Was the joy too much to bear?
Or was the sight of beauty too scary?
That mind of hers, that intuition
That sharpness of her words
Did they sting you?
Those piercing eyes, at their
Inquisitive best, mischief galore
Did you fear them?
She, the iconoclast and you
Mr. Enigma, was it hard
To keep up with the beats
The rhythm, the madness
Of this conflagration of love?
Did it all seem like a charlatan's spell?
The alchemy was not working anymore
Her ambrosial presence could not
Contain your acrimonious soul
You tapped on Hell's door,
All broke loose
You lost her forever
To the desert storm.