I Run To You

I still cannot fathom how beautiful you are.

You lay there in silence, shrouded in mist, with a serenity that I envy and yet you look to me and you call to me over and over again. Every pregnant morning, for every week and for every year you beckoned me and caressed me, and I fell into your arms time after time. 

And I still cannot fathom how I fall in love with you over and over again.

You took everything from me. You built me up only to completely shatter me and yet here we are today. Tryst after tryst, day after day, simply flirting with fate. And you mock me for being here. You mock me for running to you. Because you know I have nowhere else to go. Because you know what it is like to be liminal, to be transient; and you know that is why I love you. That is why I have always been in love with you. 

I still cannot fathom why are you home?

And why am I still running to you?

How is it that you still comfort me after you destroyed everything I knew and everything I ever loved? For years you kept secrets and for years you whispered to me in your mute ways. Years and years and years, and all I knew was I could run to you- to forget, to remember, to escape, to arrive. You completely shred me and I have spent eons searching you for smithereens of my life that I knew, and I have found no trace. I have looked at you imploringly for answers to questions that will haunt me for many lives to come. I have begged you to let this be the last time I feel heartbreak every time I even hear your name. 

Yet here I am. And there you are. And we meet again; it's just like the first time. Where I look at you with dewy eyes and you look back with the same pregnant smile, as you welcome me, and I dissolve into you. 

After everything, you are still so beautiful. And you are still home.