on becoming realistic in an unreasonable world

the day i become realistic,
i think, i will cease to exist
why are you asking me to
walk on the same earth
which some times has drought of desires
and some times floods of tears
why not give me a new earth
that will have valleyes of blue flowers
of the same colour that you wore when you left
these shores for new harbours
like a ship
whose sails had not opened
when breeze came
and there was a chance that you could come back
now i am waiting to go to himalays
and hope that some cliff will kiss me
and embrace me so hard
that i become a rock in her arms
and a river flows washing
all memories
that shape my
moods
and meandearings
you never dissauded me from wandering around
in the forest of faith
and now you ask me to
keep quiet, and wait
just as the snow does
till the whole world becomes warm
by the coldness in your heart