Poetry

The trail in mind, you had 
a problem, before the coming of Him. 
 
A quest, a a question, became 
landmarks of the journey 
in jungle of humanity. 
 
The compatibility lost, you 
have stopped looking at the 
things with inward eye. 
 
Is it necessary to give a title to every anguish? 
 
The crisis throws up some detritus 
of past, from where you had 
taken up the wrong road. 
 
The fixing magnifies your 
scars. Do not go deep 
in the veins. 
 
I am your face. 
I am your name.