If a thing loves, it is infinite. – William Blake
once,
there was half a man,
half a child,
who had
half a mom,
half a dad;
got
half of a love he wanted so bad;
got
half the things
half the time; lost
half his childhood
half his prime.
he always had to decide between two half-choices,
two compromises,
two halves of one ring.
but
unfulfilled by incomplete things, he
resolved to give everything:
all of himself, all the time,
to the completion of half-finished things,
to the fulfillment of new beginnings.
knowing,
that half of everything is full of nothing, he
resolved to be a fully-rounded thing,
and spent his time commencing,
nurturing,
consummating.
perhaps,
there is no such thing as half a thing:
there is only the act of reaching,
stretching,
boundary-breaking,
limit-leaping,
gaining ground while slipping,
singing in the shower so well
to find the mirror listening,
vibrating,
resonating…
once,
in the peerless light of
a rain-drenched night,
they stopped at a puddle,
he about to leap across it,
she about to step aside,
two strangers peering across walls.
his feet touched none of the still,
black water
that reflected their skies,
their faces, their eyes.
he looked up from the puddle to her eyes
and somehow,
having only just started,
managed to arrive.
she reflected all of her
back to all of him,
all the fullness,
all the half-ness,
all of the allness he’d
resolved to give.
once,
when alone with their selves
but together, together,
they accompanied each other
on a journey through their selves:
they took off their clothes
in a manner of dance
and beheld each other
in the other’s glance.
they stood like this for an hour or more,
two souls resonating like one,
until the souls could mirror no more,
until the two fused into one.
once,
after consummating,
they stretched their souls so far into each other,
they found themselves reaching
into a new beginning,
a ripening,
found themselves on a September night
shivering
at the thought of creating
something that contained everything,
and only then realizing:
when you set out wholeheartedly to complete a thing
it comes to life in its own right.
realizing that, while
half of everything is full of nothing,
a thing that is full of everything is infinite.
*
Rohit Nalluri 
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