Dance

Downing the grace of the Earth generous,

I bow in gratitude, at each thud of the feet.

I besought Her consent to dance.

A grand dance of death and its journey.

So, the breath waltzes with the heartbeat

and grace tenderly robs me off gravity.

Hey Shiva! I dance with ache too, in glee,

in the womb of the only dancer known to me.

Shambho

A blast abruptly roars

from faces and things

and everything on which

my eyes stumble upon.

As I devour your scent,

my lips murmur your name.

A name, like a mountain

that stands spotlessly tall.

A surge of colors

as I drink, flare up and flow,

each bleeding into another,

like a drug in an inviting glow.

Does one need any other, I ask?

When they’ve consumed

the loftiest intoxication,

named ‘Shambho’?