The Unavoidable Poem by Bipin Patsani

I wanted it to be all fun, but no,
It is as it had to be in storms and rain
A midnight fever with its usual symptoms
Of some unusual influx I fail to restrain
Unable to do away with your shaping
The present that I had for long in abstraction.

Nice, nice, very nice; it is nice of you
To move around smiling perfections,
Sweetening everywhere I look,
Unreeling often all outer realities,
Flags and posters as mere shadows
Passing to oblivion.

Tell me then, Dark Angel, am I to blame
For the contagion I contain deep within
Adoringly, miserly not willing to part?
Voices come and echo grumbling for release.
What shall I do, tell me, what shall I do?
Is it necessary to be insensitive, thus sensible?

Is it necessary always to be conscious
Of limitations and not to go beyond?
The social animal in me says, "Yes".
But the artist says, "No, you go beyond,
Go beyond till you diffuse in thunder and rain
To come down again with all grace and glory".

What would you do, Dark Angel?
To you it may be non-existent, this fever and folly
Like many insignificant passing phases,
Weeds on the way or may be fury.
But to me? But to me…. What should I say?
Split, as it were, the displeasure
Of not being able to communicate
And the pleasure of the displeasure
Of meeting something pleasant and unattainable,
Is going to remain a chronic combination in me
Tormenting me all the time, the time ahead
In spite of all the lines of a life time.

O if we would have met before!
If we would not have met!
But we met as it had to be,
And this romantic agony,
The resurrection of the poet in me.