I don’t remember exactly when, but I have a faint idea
That I caught this phrase from my grand mother
Who told me many adventures of a prince
Who attempted all that was forbidden for him
Just for the heck of it.
Apart from my innocence to believe in what all she said,
There was a creative ingenuity in her narration
That made me urge and listen to the same stories
Over and over.
Yes, the moon behind the cloud!
A fascination that charmed my childhood fantasies,
Juvenile fancies, adult excursions
And now, this easy-chair reverie recollections.
There is a ring of magic about the phrase
That concealed a world of myth.
And I must confess, I couldn’t really
Wriggle out of its sway even to this day.
From an eerie idea, I fancy
I had formed in my mind as a child,
It had grown first, to an obsession
To kick-start adventurism,
And then, to a metaphor
Encompassing a whole gamut of life’s expectations.
Moon behind the cloud!
Is a clueless riddle.
Looks like I saw it, I knew it
So near my eyes, yet so far from my hand
Breathes-in and breathes-out of me
But slips through within a wink-let
Never to come into my grasp,
Never to come within my reach.
Moon behind the cloud…
Is a paradigm of provocation,
A spring of thirst,
And a culmination of angst.