The Arc of Lasya

Context: Melancholia

In the land of forgotten dreams, where destinies combine, resides Lasya, a saga that tortures time.
With detached wit and a brooder’s art, I’ll delve into her arc, where two lives drift apart.

From the moment of her birth, she dared to explore, the town’s forbidden wonders, behind every door.
She climbed the drooping willows, surest of feet, and sailed through the lake, on boats so fleet.

Through enchanted forests, she’d wander and roam, her footsteps like music, leading her home.
She danced with the stars, in their heavenly embrace, relaying secrets to them, with a smile on her face.

But as Time did what time does, casting its spell, Lasya found a boy, many secrets to tell.
She found butterflies in waiting, the balm of the zephyr, in the arms of her lover, her heart found its ease.

With him by her side, their love’s flame aglow, they cruised through the months, like a soft, gentle flow.
Together they discovered life’s quiet chant, in shared moments near rocky cliffs, love’s symphony played.

But Lasya, a flower, scented in youth’s hold, at sixteen, she left her love for a daring chase.
Drawn to a monkish cult, seeking truths unknown, leaving behind her lover, their hearts eternally sewn.

With hopes in her heart, she sailed on a quest, to seek enlightenment, in devotion she invests.
The years ‘ran like rabbits’, wisdom she’d acquire, as she accepted the path, fuelled by desperate desire.

Her life occupied with rituals, sacred and profound, in temples, she found calm, as incense swirled around.
But as she reached her sixtieth year, a notion would arise, to seek her lost love, to see his numinous eyes.

Her lover, a gentle soul, transformed by life’s sway, carried the weight of years, a silent display.
In the moonlight’s gaze by the Naini lake, they met once again, but the echoes of their past seemed a menacing pain.

Lasya, aged by devotion’s flame, and her lover, weathered by life’s persistent game.
Their spirits now strangers, strangers they remain, two lives combined, yet drifting on separate lanes.

In their eyes, embers of recognition might dance, whispering of moments lost, a furtive glance.
Yet, the void between them, too vast to be bridged, like stars that once sparkled, but now dimmed and fringed.

As the poet, I reflect on choices made and lost, the crossing of lives, no matter the cost.
Through my personal lens, I dive into their inner strife, and with heart heavy humor, I’ll infuse moments rife.

For in this poetic vision, I channel their desires, their hopes, their regrets, their hearts caught in fires.
In words, I can see their meeting, their souls to collide, a wrenching encounter, where past and present seek and hide.

And as the curtains of life drew close, like a reluctant receding train, Lasya departed, leaving memories in earth’s domain.
A song of two souls, tethered by a love unframed, yet banished to wander, their spirits forever unnamed.

As for the boy, stay tuned, if the muse should demand plaintively, and inspiration’s orders issue.
Perhaps, circumstances willing, on a later day, I might choose, to mount a ruse of words about the boy.

With mischief plain, maybe one evening, I’ll conjure and bring to this place, the arc of Lasya’s lover, forever pure.
For stories of love and longing, never do grow old, and in poetry’s grasp, they never lose their hold.

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