You Die; I Die - Love Poems - Part 15 by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

40. JUST BECAUSE 

Just because somebody calls the compassionately breathing rose a pathetically dilapidated gutter;  doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its stupendously perennial fragrance, 

Just because somebody calls Omnipotently dazzling Sun a cadaverous hell of abysmal darkness; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its unconquerably blistering flamboyance, 

Just because somebody calls the impregnably luminescent mountains an inanely frigid mosquito; doesn’t mean that they wholesomely lose all their indomitably endless temerity and unflinchingly peerless strength, 

Just because somebody calls the majestically fathomless deserts a lividly wounded traitor; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its blazingly coruscated and timeless splendor, 

Just because somebody calls the seductively dancing nightingale an acrimoniously ballistic thorn; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its enchantingly  everlasting and poignantly mesmerizing melody, 

Just because somebody calls the voluptuous cloud an evaporating graveyard of abhorrently insipid nothingness; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses  all its unprecedented whirlpool of heavenly sensuousness, 

Just because somebody calls the mystically undulating wave a prison of disastrously truculent monotony;  doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its vivaciously exhilarating and unfathomable tanginess, 

Just because somebody calls the wonderfully titillating and emolliently crafted poetry an infinitesimal trash can of hyperbolic adjectives; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses its ubiquitously everlasting essence of unfettered friendship, 

Just because somebody calls the unbelievably pristine pearl a tawdrily molested corpse of unthinkable profanity; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all  its royal resplendence and exotically titillating charm, 

Just because somebody calls the flight of uninhibitedly untainted freedom a maliciously lambasting chain of hedonistically perverted slavery; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its celestially altruistic fortitude, 

Just because somebody calls the lap of the unconquerably sacrosanct mother an insidiously gratuitous carcass; doesn’t mean that that it wholesomely loses all its perpetually subliming effulgence and inimitable glory, 

Just because somebody calls the vividly ebullient rainbow in the boundless sky a lackadaisically venomous scorpion rotting in the dungeons of bizarre isolation; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its regally unsurpassable ocean of timeless  enthrallment, 

Just because somebody calls the wind of beautifully egalitarian symbiotism an indiscriminately cold-blooded eunuch tyrannically marauding every conceivable trace of life in vicinity; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its pricelessly  bountiful religion of humanity, 

Just because somebody calls the wails of the immaculately wailing infant an apocalypse of murderous doom; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its  spell bindingly insuperable innocence and godly mischief, 

Just because somebody calls the united fabric of eternal living kind an orphaned stone forlornly fretting on the vagrantly obsolete streets; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its unshakably Omnipotent aura and undefeatable companionship, 

Just because somebody calls the iridescently blossoming seed a curse on the trajectory of this eclectic planet; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its unassailably ecstatic freshness, 

Just because somebody calls the silken sensuality of paradise a devilish ghost invidiously permeating the hindside; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all  its indefatigably vibrant aristocracy and inexhaustibly Omniscient aura, 

Just because somebody calls the sword of patriotically unchallengeable truth a dolorously disparaging coward retreating back into his egregiously worthless shell;  doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its unceasing bravery and Omnipresent exhilaration, 

Just because somebody calls the chapter of endlessly bestowing life an amorphously stuttering oblivion of treacherous death; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its astoundingly indomitable and miraculous proliferation, 

And just because somebody calls our unequivocally immortal love a manipulatively sinful compromise; doesn’t mean that it wholesomely loses all its perpetually bonding beats and magnetically humanitarian swirl .

The End .