He is not..

Oh woman,
you can love him.
no error done;
but you should know,
the secret,
he is not infinity,
but a butterfly..
desire him,
dont hesitate,
but you should know,
he is a rain which will shower off,
not a vast sea..

He will surely burn for you,
only to turn in to a coal piece,
he can't be the molten metal,
gleaming forever..
he can be an afternoon sun,
but not a mountain for you,
covered with snow for ages,
so constant and stable..

He wont remember;
the foot steps,that you left,
in his tracks ..
he wont be bothered,
by chattering of leaves,
silences of sobs;
in memories..

The path of his heart,
is one which fades from behind,
with each of a step taken forward..
The rays from his eyes,
only travel straight,
to reach the slopes of horizons
and come back..

He is not hurt,
by your dreams;
crushed under his feet,
and he doesn't like the taste,
in your salty tears..

Dont be thirsty ; for him
as he cannot be;
the river bank you wish.
Dont try to search him,
as he is constantly lost,
in silent darknesses;
surrounding wild trees..

He is the reflection,
of a love that aflame for hours,
and burn out..
He is not a river with endless waves,
not a full moon coming back always..

Oh woman,
love him,
nothing wrong,
but you should have in store,
plenty of tears;
to trickle when he is gone.
and you should have a heart,
to burn and fume,
fuelled with reminiscences,
and his leftovers..