Living Waters, Lying Spirits, and a Prophet's Rights

Welcome back to the Loving Rascal blog, where we dive deep into the raw, unfiltered spaces of the human heart—even when it leaves us a little love-sick and stranded in the wilderness. 

Today’s piece is an evocative, multi-layered journey that blurs the lines between intense personal longing and sacred history. It is a deeply vulnerable letter written from a distance of less than a mile, yet separated by worlds of restrictions, physical barriers, and powerful figures who seek to rewrite the truth. 

Weaving together the tender, justice-seeking essence of a "Causticum mermaid" with the fierce, unyielding spirit of the biblical prophet Micaiah standing before King Ahab, this poem explores what happens when love relies entirely on the powerless power of self-giving trust. It is a story of sweet lies, chapel gestures, and a quiet, unshakeable hope that even if the grave is deep, Light will ultimately win. 

Grab a quiet corner, breathe in the words, and find your own missing link in this profound reflection on truth, exile, and ultimate devotion. 

Presenting: **Living Waters, Lying Spirits, and a Prophet's Rights.**

Are you in the library—

At the top, or at the bottom?

Or are you in your hostel room,

Writing your thesis well?

Where are you, my living breath?

I keep seeking you. 

Less than a mile away,

Missing your smile every day.

My memory is strong;

It gives me sweet starts

At four o'clock, when the sun still hides

And works his way up. 

I see your smile.

I see you give me an Al-Gult look,

And that subtle dance move

That shakes my heart every now and then.

As I gather my thoughts,

The moles on your face speak of Causticum—

A remedy divine for mermaids

Who cannot tolerate injustices done to the weak,

Who speak up and fight for those at the margins,

And empathise with a broken heart. 

I also seek your attention,

For you know what breaks you breaks me too.

The philosopher that I am seeks no medical help;

All I needed was a little love and a tight hug.

I thought you wanted others to supply the hug and the empathy,

But without the right medicine, no sickness can be cured.

"I'm not sick," the doctors say.

What they know is right, of course,

Until they see the love-sick Manoj

Seeking life in the wilderness. 

They say, "Don't fight a Causticum."

They cry quick and feel deep.

I stay low, hoping for you to know

My love for you is here to stay.

Though we may be a kilometre away,

I wish I could fly into the space where you are.

But I am not the scary monster you saw in a dream. 

I know you lied to them to be a lying mermaid,

For Ahab did not know God could send lying spirits

In so many προφατης.

He arrested Micaiah and changed his clothes,

Still, a bowman's arrow found his chest

From nowhere, as he breathed his last. 

Micaiah had laughed at Ahab's slap,

For he knew the divine right.

In chains, still he did not beg,

For he knew his God would bless.

The lying tongues killed the wicked king,

For he did not trust what Micaiah said. 

Your sweet lies, perhaps unintended,

Made a difference in my life.

For as Micaiah, I am still tested.

I thought you were in love—

If not with me, who else?

For your Paidia Gesture at the chapel

Laid my doubts to rest. 

I hoped to see you again and again,

But they stole the show using powerful fists.

How can a prophet fight soldiers

Who are physically so fit?

God's word is his refuge and strength,

For he finds his bread in the Scripture nest. 

My love for you outweighs all the lies

They said together and one-on-one.

I cannot defy their restrictions,

Nor can I fight with fists and guns.

I rely on the powerless power of self-giving love

That obeys and trusts,

Even if people choke to death. 

I know you had said:

"God is able, Light will win.

He will lift me up even if the grave is deep."

Will you be there as I rise, to be my bride?

The only one that I seek.

With undying and un-lying love,

Shaper and Manoj