The Age Of Love !

Daily Journal, Poems(English)
pic-love-5
by Sakhi

Let my Love Prosper, Let my Love Thrive

Your name is Love, You are Love Embodied

My happiness Begins and Ends with you

Your Pain is in my Heart

My Dreams have become Splendid Rainbow

Your Arms are the Place I lose Myself in

Every Breath I take is for You

Come to me, Can’t go on without you Baby

These Spaces in between make me Yearn

Let me Die in your Arms, Let me be Reincarnated there

The World of our Love, The Horizons meeting as one

I Fear it might be a Mirage, I Fear it might be a Facade

Let my Love Prosper, Let my Love Thrive

Your name is Love, you are Love Embodied

19 thoughts on “The Age Of Love !”

    1. Thank You for such a thoughtful comment my dear 😊 Some comments just make your day, this is one such. The age of love is defined only by heart. Took some time in finding a good picture, glad it payed off. 🙏

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  3. Beautiful and great writing capabilities, words came straight from your heart and I always admire your writing abilities and the way you convey the message or feelings in such simple way. Good luck and keep writing.

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    1. Thank You so much Mr Exotic. Just like you, your comment is awesome too. Glad to have myself such a dedicated follower. Please keep commenting, your comments mean a lot to me. 😊👌🏻

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      1. Ha ha, I will be visiting again and again and surely be reading most of your works, and Mr. Exotic?!!! you are too generous dear.

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  4. So loved this. I, too, want to die in my beloved’s arms and be reincarnated there. Actually, this is a huge thing with me. If my husband dies first, I wish I could be in the India of past years and be burned with his body on the funeral pyre. I know many feel this is an outdated and a cruel abuse of women but I am of the old school of thought. The loss would be too much to bear and I do not know what I will do if he dies first, especially here in the United States where such things are not even thought worthy of action.

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    1. Thank you so much dear, so glad you liked my poem. The custom that you are talking about is called “Sati Pratha”, where the wife sat on her husbands funeral pyre. It sure was barbaric, as mostly it wasn’t done out of love but out of a deep rooted reason. Rajasthan, where it is most practiced made a widow’s life so miserable and difficult that she preferred to die with her husband, while other times in-laws made her do it to gain fame. It was done out of sheer love too, and I appreciate your feelings on wanting that you don’t have to live without him a day. I hope he has a long n healthy life. But my dear would you like if he wishes to burn alive with you, if you are the one yo depart first ? Many times the thought of parting from a loved one leaves us feeling desperate, I too went through it, when my father passed and wished I was dead with him. It’s real tough to live with memories. But then life is a precious gift, we can’t just give it up for love or for cowardliness. Thank you for taking time to read and comment my dear. Do visit us again. 😊🌹🙏

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      1. I have lost many. My parents, my brother, my best childhood friend but never have I loved as deeply as I do with my husband– the thought of life without him is too terrible to even imagine. Too, I am bipolar and life may be a gift but for someone with mental illness, at times, it does not seem so as bad as that may sound. I appreciate your comment and, of course, your poem and just wish that Sati Pratha were a choice. I know it was done for some bad reasons, many pure greed and selfishness, but, surely out of love, it could be spiritual.

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