The End of This Flow ( poem)

The End of This Flow ( poem)

In the city's ceaseless rush, I feel alone  
Even though you are near, why this distance?  
A lamp burns without being lit,  
Yet your light seems to have faded away  

Even if I glance back,  
All that I thought I knew slips away  
Trying to touch the depths of knowledge,  
The truth somehow remains unknown  

When the thorn of words breaks,  
In the silence,  
You — are born as poetry  

Pain hides in the tip of my fingers  
Yet, poetry, when I feel your gentle ache,  
I understand then  
That itself is a kind of bliss  

Like a mountain spring suddenly stilled,  
My own flow came to a halt there.

GR kaviyoor 
26 01 2026
(Canada, Toronto)

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