Falling in love is considered an illusion,
The destroyer, the breaker of hearts.
But I fell in love with written masterpieces,
The place where imagination starts.
I deeply adored the mere act of reading,
The magic of scratches on a blank page,
Which revive words inside one's head,
Truer than any old sage.
Arrived, the selflessness of storytelling,
A simple way to portrait your choice.
Expresses love, when you decide,
To recite it in your own sweet voice.
As you recite, you realize as well,
How amazing those weapons are,
Which the author pens down, beautifully,
To gather ponderings from afar.
Take the semicolon for example,
A simple mark yet so well thought.
Guessed place for the dead of a sentence,
A place where there should’ve been a stop.
Out of nowhere, ridiculous doubts arose,
“What about the precious time it killed?”
To which those sentences astonished me,
With how quickly the pages were filled.
I fell in love with written masterpieces,
As it was just so magnificent to see,
When there occurred a scarcity of words,
They presented my state of mind, unknowingly.
They know our deepest musings
A bond so pure and true,
Even when they haven't laid sight on us
Maybe…. minds have soulmates too.
-Naman Maurya
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