My passion is as fleeting 

As the moment that passes by.

It comes like a breath of fresh air

And ends in a sigh.


Fancies breed passion

And passion in vain,

Grows so gross

That it gives but only pain.


I know not where it all began.

I know not if it will even end.

For all those dreams after which I ran,

Those errors I never did mend,

Keep coming back to me.


Now I realise why they say 

The world is round,

‘Cos I end up where I’d started,

Lose myself where I’d found…


© Vidya Venkat (2006)

Published by Writer’s Workshop, Kolkata


Published by Vidya Venkat

Ph.D. candidate in Anthropology at SOAS, London. Formerly, journalist at The Hindu, Chennai.

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