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’?