The Encounter
Walking through the corridor
My eyes a haze,
My limbs moving mechanically,
Mouthing everyday words
Answering queries and completing the mundane.
And such have I trained my heart,
Or is it that the heart has thus learnt to brace itself,
that my eyes donot blink
nor do I break my stride,
When I see him standing before me
remorseless, unabashed, ruthless…
My eyes pierce through him,
as if all I see is the blank space beyond him
but not him nor his callous heart of stone.
A second, and he looks at me to judge the wreckage
of which he is the cause.
But all he can see is the void in my eyes.
And my lips which failed to tremble at the sight of HIM.
