"where night is a star reflected in a cool pool"

surreal as the silver moon
dipped in the silks of
the night sky,

watery prisms of
pool, tender as ****
frost wound around
the shadowy banks,

little flutes for ripples,
giant sky of light,
pool of ovid gold,

my love for you
knows no end,
sweet boy, in all
the give and take
the last line of
the sky, the first
line of the sea.

"where night is... the burying cloud"

the sea glistens, dark waves
melt along the coast, crashing
onto the beach, dreaming
of summer love and
shimmering star.

i dream of you,
taste your lips
like cherry-steel,
consertina like
a paper lantern
played with
by the breeze,

my lips give way
to your lips,
love to your love,
everything is
shiny like a silver
bowl,

carry me like a
stream to the
waves of your love
and i'll melt there
forever, my love,
just for you.

Each cup of nectar
for me you filled
tasted entirely different,
but did just the same.
transported my spirit
out of the planet, on
ethereal wings of light.
Every time I drank it
I swooned and forgot,
everything other than
the love you poured on.

Inebriated by a love
I never had a chance
to define, I can't think
you and I as two
entities different,
oh! my lover immortal.
No other lover
would have done
what you to me is doing
Your absence as a  person
never did bother me
you are the one reigning
within, wordlessly speaking
I can see how your eyes gleam
the moment, I just think of you.

1.
The non peril writer,magnificent illustrator,
dexterous editor,all in one of the book of life,
each one, each page,each edition looks and reads
different, yet one in essence, though flavors vary.
We hear  you speak every tongue,Latin, Arabic, Hebrew
and in sonorous Sanskrit,you make us chant"Earth is one nest"
2.
Such profuse creativity  baffles one and all, ever
is your prime possession;  manifestation as well!
The nebulous one, present in each cell,each neuron,
well,  everything ever appeared,anywhere in cosmos,
we attempt to know you in myriad means, give you names
that pleases us, we try to possess you in ways even mean.
We hallucinate our cameras of mind, captures  you right
with the eyes of science; you still prove to be like music.
3.
In our limited resources allotted by neuron collectives,
we make you sit on the throne, of the architect of cosmos,
that evolves and emerge,and itself erases when time is ripe.
The artistic painter of emotions, that has been baffling,
the mix of color happens without any  guide book.
sans blue print of any kind or elaborate plan to execute.
4.
You have no designated place to live, in spite of our wishes
you are omnipresent , the string, player as well as  music,
your thought work we all are, weaved in to one from
strands of of ancient  DNA things preserved,through ages!
Oh! the one that's beyond the realms of winning /losing
the subtlest of all the sublime that in every heartbeats chant,
love to be a work of art that  pleases you, in me present,
5.
Help me from within, in my dissolution as colors,varied
be the painter too and to become that work of art pleases you.

Come to me.
             your inscribed
                slashes of verse
                branded upon
             the juice of
           my tongue
     a specter
    of the ultimate gift
      as we allow
         the magic
              to rise
               and peel off in
         swathed, aching
         layers,
                undone
Each stratum of
  dermis shed
       is a prayer for
         our succulent
                     redemption
                        Each shadow of
                          silky cuttlefish caress
                   a plea for sanctity
            or perhaps simply
            being loved
        into a frenzy
        of sanity
            healing in waves
                    of electric eyes
                          You open me
                    like a holy book
              and I am suddenly
                  filled with light
           as you unlock
the blessings
from my spinal fluid
and I am a priestess
  on her altar
       arms raised,
         love braised
              into slick-lit wonder
               a spiral cone rising from
                            ground to crown
                 chakric palette pulsating
            phosphorescent ripples
on deep-sea creatures
Your ubiety
       slakes my naked,
            somatic anatomy
                   a mere shelter
                          for our souls    
                       a working
       of muscle and skin
    with heart strings pumping
                    the essence within
                     Our brainwaves
                                    sizzle in
                         glandular fire
                        as pheromones
                       envelope us
                   like incense
This goes far beyond the
wet cuntflush of desire
beyond the embellishment
of moistened sword
  It is the sacred dance
         of souls that merge
            before even touching
                      pre-verbal animal
                   first light of mankind
                          in ancient swells
                                 of earth that
                           rise like sparks
                the constellations
           of firework chimes
       in arcs of
chiseled
         dark

1.
Show me your inky night
and dreaming darkness,
the passing clouds, moonlit,
wind driven, impassioned,
that never would know where
they wound culminate,
or what transformations
will take place between the
nebulous begining and the end
as they speed through as if
they are programmed to perform
feats that move the wheels forward.
2.
Show me the constellations magnificent,
that baffle me every time I stare,
countless stars in your milky way
like a  progression, dying or being born,
some glittering, some death pale,
red, blue or any hue one could imagine,
and the endless mystery that envelops,
all the wondrous things, making' being'
as a part of 'nothingness' eternal,
one in which "Maya"*unfolds as apparitions.
3.
Show me,how you drown me in  your
boundless love that makes
every moment born, transcend
beyond black holes of deaths
and cycles of births connected
like tunnel of wormholes.Make me listen
the subtle music being conducted within
every tiny spec, that takes part in this
eternal ecstatic dance of the sublime.
4.
Show me your magical might,
that would make me both,
Schrodinger's cat alive, in it's playful self,
and simultaneously in a sleep like death,
existing while it is non existent,
and one with everything in this multiverse
dead , dying, alive or emerging from gloom,
all at once, while, reposing  
within a consciousness, limitless.

"where night is...the swallows return or a hut near a lake"

in the castle of our love,
windswept fortress of
ashen grey, where the
four poster bed rests
on wooden floorboards
and the windows have
no glass,
roses wind around our
bed and their petals
blush against the oak,
and our dreams press
to our lips,
i can believe that
romance and passion
will sweep us, breathless,
to paradise, that this
glowing happiness was
a promise we'd never
betray, as your arms
fold me in the morning
of the dusk, my limbs
stretched out and your
slinky legs wrapped
around mine. red rose
of me in the ashes, red
rose of you sinking
into the night.