Autophony

Hurt. Aching passion. Sorrow not loved. Wish it goes away. Pain.

Guess who I am:- I am the sunset's pleasing tone, I am the shipwreck's anguished moan. I seed the rain that nurtures all, I brew the anger of the squall. I am the atoll's turquoise green, I am the ice-floe's stark white sheen. From me stems every living breath, To me your dust comes after death.

I’m waiting by the sea for someone to come. I see here and there. Everyone is waiting. For someone to come or someone to go (perhaps forever). Some for a signal from above that will guide their destiny; others merely a better job, or a spouse, or inheritance. The stones are waiting too for the tide to lash at them. the stranded crabs wander, waiting for the sea to come in and take them back. and the fish in the sea are waiting too for the crabs to come back. The limitless earth behind me is sowed with seeds that have been waiting for the heavenly water that will sow them with life. the squirrels and birds wait for that water and the blooming to rerun that eternal sequence of life again and again. We are all waiting for something or the other to happen and bring the change we dread to bring by our own hands. My little wait is over, She has come. But my big wait Still continues. I know not What I wait for. But I’m waiting. (The bit in italics may or may not be part of the poem.)