Wait

As I silently wait,

I need not tell the world

how it pains to not know

the bliss in your tears.

I need not tell the world

how frequently I implore you

to rid the ego that is

encumbered by fears.

Like a lost girl in a dark forest,

I hanker for that crack of dawn.

A little peep

of sun’s first ray

while impatience persuades me,

to pander to its delicate self.

But I remain faithful-

to wait.

Tale

After a few million breaths,

appears the inevitable last.

Tarnished with bothersome churned flesh

of yesterdays and tomorrows,

you are but a parched leaf

to the hungry mouth of demise.

But the grumbling you

would unquestionably deny seeing

the repeated-ness of your habitual roar.

Only when tales would begin to wrap up

would you desolately notice,

your tale is no different from the one before.

Music

I could smear into

the sound of flute and drums

that form a euphony

composed by deft fingers and keen ears

Like the sound of sunrise glow

full-moon dusks

and roses’ bloom

And so, blooms my heart

Carefully crafted notes

In which linger the scent

Of the highest

Fiery songs that speak

A thousand languages

Without speaking at all

Like thickened sweet milk and rice

on my tongue

the music pleases

the taste buds of my ears

and then I want to become

and scatter like that fountain mist

The grace filling dawdles,

with my heart singing;

How I wish I could merge

How I wish I could

Hum

Words tangle

And winds fetch

a growling creature.

After me, it runs.

But deep into the labyrinth,

I suspend the hunt.

To stare at the creature

straight in its eye.

The growl then grows into a shy cry.

Shy cry, into a murmur.

To tell me, where my thoughts end,

begins the hum of silence.

Hiss

She hisses and clings to my finger.

A little one is she.

Copper with hints of black and gold,

embellishes her stunning body.

Artfully, she slithers

along the spine

to imbue a burning yet icy taste

of ecstasy.

The stupor in her eyes,

provokes my curiosity,

while her petite mouth harbors

fatal divinity.

Samyama

With your shrill stare,

I wonder if it was the

scorching sword

or molten fire, from your eyes

that poured.

You chauffeured me

across seas of pain and bliss.

My parched mouth made no sound.

Only silent crevices

of inside roared.

No longer were you music

but stormy fire-dance.

Your charring heat,

bleeding into every inhalation

I housed.

The deadly venom you

soaked my breath with,

I shall feed on now.

To burn myself up

before I burn myself out.

Navigation

Between a screaming dense forest

Of yesterdays and tomorrows

Lies an ocean

‘An ocean within a forest?’,

you ask.

Yes, an ocean, ever so still.

To dive, you need no gear

Nor do you need to know how to swim

You’ll see it takes more than swimming

To gleefully drown

in utter silence.

Way to this still ocean

is facile, they say

Yet, many halt to take a nap

But this time around, I am sleepless.

This time around, the body is my map.

And breath, my navigation.

Blossom

A flower, we pray to be,

for the birds and bees.

Mauve or even burgundy

amongst stunning emerald leaves.

Dawn summons the amber sun to peek,

at myriad helpless little buds like me.

In an orchard of apples and bloody berries,

turn us into blooms, we beseech.

Paint

I paint with paint born out of stars

and glitters born out of stardust.

Tenderness for colors conceive paintings,

and devoutness, colors.

A zillion combination of tones,

desert me in an enchanted daze.

A thousand tactics to paint,

but blotches and blots, I embrace.

In dispassion for the ultimate,

I see them turn into gleaming clusters.

The gleam renders me to embrace-

abandonment in abundance!

I paint not what you see.             

I know not what you or I see either.

My abandoned paintbrushes merely wander,

to give birth to my whimsical universe.

Arrival

Interrupted breaths, erratic devotion

What has become of me?

A promise I embraced, to hold you in every breath

now stands alone, aloofly.

 

Guru, why now do I feel

the waft of air that you are, so distantly?

I wonder if I gave you away

to the absurd world so easily?

 

I listened wastefully what they said,

forgetting what you are to me.

Please come back, in tears I plead

With my very self, I’ll bathe your feet.

 

Ah! Who else be accused of your exit,

but the puerile me?

How did I expect your divine feet in my home,

when my home itself is awfully filthy?

Preparation

Pages of conceit, she burns,

before she steps in.

She deserts it all

to make room for Him.

Slivers of vanity,

she leaves behind-

everything that shan’t allow

to seep Him in.

All she carries with her

is unbending readiness.

And devotion,

her companion, constant.

And when she steps out,

she indeed, never would.

But what you knew of her,

shall be memory so distant.