If

book-and-heart

The dog that chases her tail
Never to find a little fluffy growth

Stephen Hawkins who will predict aliens
In far-away planets, never to see life
In the strangest of galaxies

The shy girl, the virgin with glasses
Who can never can really melt
The stitching of a lonely heart

The potential that you can feel beneth the skin
The anger that can never be lulled

The man on the bathroom mirror
That can never outgrow his reflection

The bud that never becomes a flower
The bridesmaid who dreams of a lacy white dress
And the white dress that dreams
Of a corset filled body

The heart that excavates history
To dream of the one that never was
Going through an old shoe box

The many ifs that get buried
In if-nots and vise-versa

Love that breaks open her cocoon
To flutter lusty wings

Time that outlives dreams
The mileposts that never see milestones

The prince with the glass slipper
Who never finds Cinderella

The never-ending stories of hope
And the quicksands of rejection

The perfect circle that epitomizes life
In the circumnavigations of time

The lotteries that were never bought
And the treasures that are never found

The ampersand and hyphens
In cupid’s arrowheads

The “if only” that stares back
And the” if nots”, that cryopreserve

The many possibilities vulnerable to chance
And the jigsaw puzzles that are never filled

The glass ceilings that limit us
And the white flags that annul us

The many colors of the unknown
That paint beautiful horizons near by

The skipping ropes that fall like nooses
And the marbles lost down skull orifices

The missing coordinates of your life story
Meeting your aura every lapsed second

And a history that gets appended
Giving birth to constellations

In the vastest galaxy known to man.
– His own memory.

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Author: meandererworld (Dilantha Gunawardana)

Dr Dilantha Gunawardana is a molecular biologist who graduated from the University of Melbourne. He moonlights as a poet. His poems have been accepted/published in Kitaab, Eastlit and Ravens Perch. He mixes science with poetry for a living, when what matters is the expression of both words and DNA into something serendipitous. Although an Australian citizen, Dilantha is domiciled in Sri Lanka, his country of birth.

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