Hold on or let it go….

Slowly as his memory started to betray him,
The little details were the first to vanish,
The way she tied her hair,
The slow dance on her favourite song,
He tried to etch everything in his mind,
Her laughs, her cries, the hair that had always played on her face,
The universe was quick to judge,
It usually is,
Brought him hues of blue,
The fragrance of mystical grounds,
Her form had last remained with him,
As she slowly turned to a shadow,
Then light to darkness,
He held on to her,
Her thoughts, the feelings,
Sweet and sour,
Our mind plays games with us,
In situations like these,
It in a dilemma,
Usually cannot decide,
Whether to hold on or let go,
For the winds sometimes bring a message or two,
A colloquial poem wrapped in fresh basil leaves,
It says to hold on,
Till the leaves dry and turn to dust,
The poem slowly turning into a weep,
Love always wins he had heard,
For love is powerful of them all,
Greed, hatred, ego and malice,
But a bridge built on stones petite,
Lasts a season,
Or maybe two,
The heart joins in the conundrum,
And keeps on building bridges,
Over the storm water,
The turbulent and vicious,
It holds on the ropes that carry the ledges,
In hopes that someone will hold the other edge,
The bridge how strong can last so long,
Tired, bruised and defeated it sometimes,
Want to let it go,
It dreams of days the storm will calm,
The water will slow down,
The bridge would be complete,
O innocent, my innocent little heart of gold,
Let the rope free your hands,
But the bridge shall fall,
Drown in the water so tall,
The civilisations on the other bank would starve to death,
Nobody would bury the dead,
O innocent, my innocent little heart,
The storm will continue,
And will reach you soon,
It won’t be merciful,
You’ll be dead or in state of total despair,
So shall I let it go,
So shall I let her go,
What about our dance together,
The way she had kissed me,
Her sweet fragrance of lavenders,
You may or you may not,
The water banks never meet,
Over a bridge that was built from one bank,
The bridges need to meet at the middle,
Nowhere near, not someplace far,
O innocent, my innocent,
Let it go or you shall repent,
The ropes leaves marks,
That stays,
Seasons, years or even centuries,
A bridge will be till that day,
Be Your poison,
The hurdle in your way,
Let it go and lay down a bit,
Rest your hands, the spirit and mind,
For the banks never meet of a river,
That had started without distant grounds of saffron….