A page, fresh and peaceful, was given to me
Umpteen muses flashed, sure of thee
How intense was your desire
and your love as pristine as fire
How I wanted those chains of yours to be dislodged to liberty
and how thy innocent-self says of them as 'the chains of infinity',
The page was still plain
As I waited for my sanity to gain
Back from the scars of love
Which was as pure as a dove
The page didn't seem to articulate
the profundity of me and my mate.
Repleting it was a pointless pun,
as a lamp against the sun.
So I left it as it was
Felt nothing else can surpass
the level of description it grants
Akin the glint of the moonlight on the broken glass
Thus, I left the page blank, fresh and unwritten
after my deciding and undeciding was done