The Roman pontiff as a man
walks closer to God in every human.

Yes, the night vision binocular
we call science, is fantastic!
Good to locate distant things at night,
but tell me, by any chance is it helpful
for the user to locate oneself/self ?

Lucky to be here
in this ringside seat;
incredible dramas get enacted
on the stage of my mind.*
                #

A strange yellow smile draws a wired look on her face
she tells him in a crude whisper, that a beast stalks her
in her discombobulation, he detects the withering.
a desperate flower sometimes  mysteriously invites
a flower forced to bloom before her time, was her
only in the closed vault inside her chamber is it's secret,
her hands strongly grips him, not letting him leave her
and he could feel the presence of the beast then and there.
Then, little by little her grip becomes cold, lets his hands free
she  slips in to a trance, body gets stiff like a log.

The rolling hills in meditation, stand still
under the ultramarine blue skies,
they brood over ocean depths
see visions of dolphins' dance and sword fishs' fight;
in a flash, the hills dive like a blue whale
in to the deeps of profoundly tranquil.

marvel, isn't it? not even a note uttered,
the symphony of cosmic music
spreads its waves, embrace
heaven and earth in one sweep,
motionlessly in a dance within.

A mighty flow of a river,
was her true lover
she was a rare flower
fallen from an exotic tree,
on the river side, leaning over.
In the hands of the waves,
she felt the bliss she sought,
but how could a flower
however fragrant, find
the heart of the flow,
without even a chance
to stop and ponder?

She twisted and turned
burned within,
soaked in water,
floated on a bed of white foam,
then, gifted her fragrance
bit by bit to the water
flowing to the sea.

Now, she found,
every leaf, twig, fish
and millions of others
part of the flow
willingly submit,
whatever they cherish,
to the flow, that would,
take all in to the fold,
of sea where they all
become part of the vast blue,
that has a sheen timeless
and when looking from
up there, outer space
just a small speck

Amazement taking
a human form
and performing for hours;
it wasn't anything less.

How the pianist does this
is beyond the grasp of mind,
owes her very much
for the deep cleansing
of our souls, but there isn't
a way to pay the pianist.

Don't know how much is enough
in material terms, whatever
will be not enough.
It's worth a few lifetimes
of deep healing, I guess,
This adventure crossing
boundaries of every kind
with ease humbles us,
eyes fill, streams of tears
just don't stop.


Fallowing her trail
we reached a clearing
in the tangled dark forest,
experienced a glimpse
of what is beyond:

immense ocean
of music
merging in
the dense sweet
dreamy silence

Sudden stammer mars his words as she gets closer,
in to a velvet pit of ecstatic delirium he quickly falls.
When her ****** scent sweeps him off his feet
his throat gets dry, grammar falters, words hide,
her audacious lips now, tenderly seek his timid ones
no more  words, no worry about subject-verb agreement,
Let time begin all over again, in oblivion they swim.

A kite in the wind
a lilt in my sight.

A dream passing through my thought, to it I become alive,
in her yellow satin bikini, my love, walks across the beach
on the water's edge she stands looking back
thinking I'd join her, for now, forget other things.
I am in the spell of a dream that keeps on enticing me for long.
Strong scent of whisky and tobacco, encircles me like a cloud
the breeze gossips about it and spreads the word around
the girl in the table next, knowingly smile, still pretends reading
all of us, my love, I, the girl belonging to someone, smoking non stop
are lost, marooned here, still we are floating on a bubble each
others hardly notice, each has a dream still vague, kept on hold
half formed, unknown still or in different states of existence.
            But a voice mysterious, whispers this in my ears:
                                                  "Aren't we all still in a past dream?"

Flower, passion filled lover,
remember ever, the very first moment
we forgot our separate existences
became one, melting in a fragrance.

A giant egg of possibilities,
we see from inside, its embrio
yolk and white, like galaxies
this rainbow colored  cosmos,
lay submerged within
the timelss -spaceless state,
unimagianably limitless,
indescribable, incomparable
unfathomable and  know not
what or what not,
inspite all continueing probes.

A matrix of 'multiverse' exist
ignorant of one another
within the cosmic egg.
Inside the egg's one puny little cell
you and I fill an infinitesimal space
why try to break the tender shell
and **** the millions of organisms?

Love can heal, make the shell endure
and expand the possibilities, more and more
till the dice from a mighty invisible hand
falls over the egg , one fateful day
and the play comes to a grinding halt.
may be with a whimper not with a bang.

On a white conch shell
like flowing teardrops
her name was written,
in his heart's blood;
this is the only record
hitherto, of his sacrifice.

On a coral reef
with every imaginable color,
his name was sculpted;
a real marvel that belies
the labor of love of long days,
her final dedication to the love of her life.

A deep sea diver, exploring
a long time after, strayed
in to this chamber of love secrets
by chance and finds
the relics of a mysterious love affair
that got lost to the human world for ever,
but  found an abode deep down
in the ocean depths
amidst crowding scallops, calamari and mussels

The explorer's eyes brim
a stream of tears,
though do not know
for whom, it was shed
adds salt to the ocean floor.

Love makes heroes out of
even timid and docile persons
let me tell this. it is difficult
to predict the ways love treads.

Further down the river
is a quiet island,
my hideout in days of yore
when love as a narcotic
seeped in to my blood streams
coursing wildly to the beat
of my thumping heart.
Tides from the estuary
never touch its shores
waters are wave-less there,
nature is at her fecund best.

We rowed and rowed
but found nothing there,
turbulently lashing waves
told us a story different
from the one  for long
in my mind encapsulated.
I stood for a moment, accepting defeat
and felt  the maelstrom of time
swirling around, emphasizing on
the irrevocability of  the things past.

From where does this pain come?

Once close to my heart,
the island in my mind's stream,
though I left behind and
swam forward not to look back,
is still there, though not here in space.

A festoon of larks swing across a spire of clouds.

Susan is emotions blossomed in wrong season,
never her eyes let me estimate the true depth of her feelings
I see them apologize candidly  in the next moment,
I try to understand her compulsions.
In fleeting moments I get a glimpse of her
emotional education totally gone wrong
creating within her wrong time flowering.

Susan is passion, but struggles for right expression
her panting and chanting amorous nonsense
is her prop to climb stairs with me, but she never holds my hand
helplessly I watch her fall down from the top stair,
and writhe in shame and guilt, I try to alleviate, in whichever way I can.

Susan's messed up garden of childhood is a secret
that seeped out from the fables and legends she would recount
I curtain it off, when we lay cuddled and see dreams
That frozen December, I hate, that comes as an uninvited guest
regularly in our lives, we try to forget
I wake up dreaming her step with me in to  
the warm garden of spring, and see her sleep smiling.

Though an anchored boat,
my silent mind goes adrift
as lapping waves sing

Alone, she collects pebbles
from the sands of seashore
only to throw back each
with all her might, as if
its her revenge;
all of a sudden she stops
throwing them
back on the flat waves,
just to see them leapfrog,
a few times and vanish.

A sandcastle, he was busy
building on damp sand,
laboring alone like a child,
as if it means a lot,
but the spires refuse to
stay up, collapse again and again
against his wish.
it has become a total mess,
irredeemable for him alone,
or even with some help.

Perturbed he looks,
at the very moment-
from somewhere close by,
wind brings the overpowering stench
of rotting sea weeds and dead fish,
that makes them both look up
at once, by chance
and gaze at each other's face
as if they don't
recognize each other,
for a long, long moment.

On the blue black paper, western sky spreads,
mirthful white storks in a formation write-
a poem that steals every heart in an instance.
When the colors of dusk infuse meaning, it gleams,
cumulus clouds above are flush with goosebumps,
below, the green trees  start a spirited samba dance,
evening breeze translates it, in to a jaunty song.
Oh! celestial poet, thy immortal verse, comes alive
rings aloud, without words and none reciting it.

Pitch dark night
mutely complains against starlight,
fireflies, moon beams and each spec of light
seeping in from galaxies lost in billion year dreams

The greatest injustice,
in the voice of wind, night murmurs
is light that makes discordant notes
marring the spellbinding orchestra conducted by darkness
extending softly like a drapery of silk, all over the world
rising and falling to an invisible baton's moves, swift or slow.

But her reign, she forgets, is only till sun comes
riding his chariot and seamlessly continue
drowning the music of darkness,
completely in his tenor of light touching alto soon enough

"Open your eyes"
after what seemed a timeless flight,
he heard her voice softly whisper,
he was reluctant,
though he could
imagine her curious eyes
peering at his face, from above,
he was floating over the clouds
where with her he found
a nook to snuggle
and remain enclosed in each other .
The clouds, moving in a frenzy,
was amazingly tender with them both
probing cloudy fingers went wild
caressed their body,
and tickled, dark desires
till they squirmed with pleasure
erupting from a secret spot,
and pleaded to stop it,
in one moment, feeling insane,
then, 
like feathers from a wing
they slipped in to the hands of the west wind
and to a dreamless sleep, till she woke up first.

Mostly after seven, she trudges back from work,
like a ship badly wrecked, towed in to the dock,
"Perhaps dismantling is the only option left"
she bitterly muses, waiting for him with a glass of wine.

"Getting out of the office" he laments over the phone,
"is crossing a wire fence with electrical charge"
work never ceases, nor day and night, clearly demarcated,
avarice of the corporate is  sticky dark tar of night,
spreading beyond the borders; like workdays it extends.
Become difficult to keep head above the waters,
swelling every moment.
One works like mad, as if there is no tomorrow worth the wait,
and it goes on till the moment one arrives at the dead end.
The more one works like a dog, the faster ends up
as a dog in the manger, but who cares?

Yen to make profit touches the sky,it's demands insane,
the urge to  **** comes, when pressure mounts
and deadline comes close; during a presentation late night,
he watches with insatiable urge, two ***** eyes
go down and ****  his tender erogenous spots
that's when mind in slumber shakes the body to its roots,
"She'll be at the end of her tether" a thought goes home and recoils.

Life is a flashy party, jaunts to strange lands are the ***** high,
children, not even in thoughts, the time to count ***** are far,
when the latest model car arrives, the neighbors are in awe,
but soon, the vacations become a pain in the ***,
conversation with her becomes labored, mostly nods and grunts
"What's wrong with you?"both shout at each other at once,
that makes them laugh out loud, child like they are in fact,
what a predicament is this, laughter and sob are no different!

A dangerously close shave life is; full of nicks and cuts,
quick fix ***** and walks on the brink are routine.

When he gets in the room she sleeps alone,
she tells someone over the phone aloud:
"I am badly ******, again and again, literally I mean"
life of a nerd and a techie, celebrated pair, envied by others
has this as the foot note, after rows and rows of success.
"Why me?" they both in their lonely beds in adjacent rooms
Yell to the Gods at the top seats, staring at the white ceiling.

'In perfect corpse posture, he lies
supine, motionless,
on the broad sidewalk
hardly a space to practice a yoga pose.

The waterfall of evening sun
foaming on his face
in no way disturbs,
it would seem when one looks
through the car window.
When, such equanimity
of the yogi on the sidewalk
begins to puzzle
the discreet signboard,
leaning against the wall besides
the motionless man,
lets the cat out of the bag:
"Our bar is now open"

Note this:
none found out yet,
but the cat suspects.

The gardener gifted me a rose,
when I was gently passing his way
a bright smile lighted his face
"The best that bloomed
in this garden to day, is yours" were his words.

His sweet manner is a ploy, I presumed,
I plucked one I liked, on the sly,
once I was away from his eyes,
"The best is this, now in my hands,
No way you can deceive me, I've craft"

My love chose the first among the two,
no doubt, that's the best, in her heart she knew,
why did I doubt the gardener in the first place?
not just his eyes, his heart too was perfect.

The sky, is a wide blue eye,
the sea, a huge drop of tear-
rolled down from it.
You and I, now two parts of the whole,
are clad in transience,
be aware.
We watch this cosmic maiden's
many moods and cherubic sleep
till she wakes up, when our dream
would dissolve, in to a long, long sleep.

A wooden cart, drawn by a bullock,
along the busy streets of Bangalore-
took over by throngs of techies,
out on a hunt, after office hours.

A curt mannered matron, the driver
sits chatting non stop in her distinct rural lingo,
on her funky pink cell phone,
about life in general, spiraling prices,
scarcity of water, lack of rain and more.

Luscious grapes in bunches
mostly violet, green and some black,
heaped on the cart, people follow
enticed by the garden fresh crop,
she drives her cart, unfazed, her man now,
has turned to her humble salesman
behind the cart is his place,
he plays the part of  her second fiddle.

No urge to show who is in control,
not him anyway, she is on top
his silence says:"I understand"

Hazy seems her mind
does a mountain hide behind it?

Someone left
a love note
in the air.
The wind brought it
to him straight,
clearly the wrong address,
he thought at once.
Then,
he saw two eager eyes, from afar
like a hurried rain, falling all over him.
Compelled, he thought of reading
that fragrant note,
the messenger wind,
insisted him to accept.
Just a deep breath
when she was passing by, told
it was full of spelling mistakes.

Like a stop watch
deftly traps time,
the silver light
in your eyes
arrests the passing moments
        and
brings eternity
to my ken
though just for a moment.

Drawing behind, her gathered black cloak ,
the night reluctantly withdraws
behind the numerous skyscrapers in the making
springing up, impatiently at various stages of scramble,
going one step above each passing day
as if there is no intention to stop,
till the day a fortress is built up around Bangalore.

Not the garden city of yore, any more
an  unfamiliar painted doll, robbed of innocence,
full of malls, glass, chrome and marble pomp.

The fluorescent eyes of the city, bids
farewell to the retreating night
with which it played varied games till morn,
and wearily view the approaching daylight.

The world is changing its color, now, so fast with vigor
yet, it is just the same as ever, in essence.

A blue train wearing a white turban,
measures the bottom length of the new skyline.
As I watch, an observer of a bubble, a phenomenon
I look through the eyes of one similar,
a few million years later and see light, only light dominate.

Then, like I do, two eyes would observe and
think of eternity, the imaginary construct called time
and the interplay of black and white and the time in which both dissolve

Behind me you stand quiet, taking in my scent, dense with pheromone,
a witness on the verge of arousal, you gently caress my neck
your sharp teeth bite at my earlobes, sowing goosebumps
all through my body's landscape
Your long fingers, love to travel all  my back and shoulders,
I dissolve within the present, travel down with your fingers,
your love transforms in to gentle all engulfing caresses,
that alone is real all through the ages.

I view through the eyes of the stranger,
who would see what I see in another time, in a form different
then we would have to accept, we are one and the same!

The murmuring grove all of a sudden
falls mute, as they enter
listens to their words, love prompted
in the distinct love dialect.
A red beaked parakeet watches her
without batting an eyelid,
the  ruddy cheeks and ruby lips of the girl,
all aglow as the golden rays of evening sun caresses;
feeling jealous, the parakeet makes a loud racket.

Wasn't I
the reverberating
moonbeam
that seeped in to
your expectant womb,
in spasms
you wreathed as if
an electric ray
stung you unawares
when you were swimming
in depths of pleasure
seeking that peak to climb
and dive quickly to the surface.
We lay still
side by side,
that moment was
written in our cells
as remembrance,
that was the high point
nature told us earlier in whispers.
From that moment
we started to wilt,
bit by bit
though it hardly did show,
that's the nature's prompt,
when the seeds are well spread.
We are shadows
that dissolve at sun down
though you flowered
again, few times
and I made you remember
the intensity of the
first time,
in the history of our lives as
just plants in other forms
the eclipse starts
as the seeds seek fertile
land to grow
and claim their space.

On a blessed morn, a sunbeam kissed me on my forehead,
and at that immortal second, exchanged with me
the secret of the knitted design of the whole universe,
an orchestra of million pieces, that plays for ever
but how can I express it to another unless that  heart is resonant?

I am one among that tribe spread out, to far corners,
that would rather receive riches in our souls,
your voice like songbird's fly high, the music wakes up the valley,
I desire to touch your voice with my fingers, like I hold you
around your waist, we swirl, wind carries the cloud, tenderly
I yearn to lick the honey oozing from your voice
and wing to a Nirvana high, as the narcotic  dissolves
in my saliva slowly, then spread in my blood, beyond body limits.

You are a swirl of fragrance, a high note, touching the zenith of eternity,
I wanted to be the base note to keep you anchored, in here and now
my ethereal flame will embrace your light, together we'll
take flight, light our path and be limitless.

Inebriated blue cloud,
I know you well enough
libertine ways you have
make you a lover of
deep thunder and meek rainbow
and also a chit of a lark
that loses itself in a song
be it is in grief or mirth.

Strange is the ways of my heart,
how much I long to fall in love with you
and proclaim this to the world scheming
to disrupt the pleasures one seeks
without any reason at all
"Look! love has no limits, no reason even
the lovely cloud, softness personified
caresses my foliage with sensuous abandon
kisses me with her wispy lips of moisture"

I know you understand, though unmindful of
my unbridled passion
making breaches in the limits,
I have no illusion about our improbable union.
True, how can we live
happily ever after?
I envy your gift of wings
though you have none visible,
you borrow it from the wayward wind,
too willing to carry your sweet load around.

I stood on the hill top,
wistfully thinking
that you will come and
take me within your soft folds
though I am a tree with deep running roots
that has become a restraining thing.

Freedom without any limit
gets you inebriated every minute,
your love for love,  makes you desirable
you live in the present, suspend thoughts on time to come
as it is hypothetical, you say.
You are in a hurry to roam
wherever lovers lead you one after the other
do you have an urge to dissolve and pour-
as water, without any remorse?

Do you know my  penitence for your love
on this hilltop is a true sacrifice?
My love for you doesn't bring anything
except my wilting hour after hour.
Let me be on your blue breast for moments
when my boiling love will seek
your shining center that melts, melts
we'd freeze as one, how long my darling?
Time would simply stand still
to a distance, i'd be transported,
where tree or cloud means nothing
we are an incessant rain lasting for ever.

I am your roar,
of anger,
pure power
released without
any reserve
creating fear
when it's the need
of the hour.

I am your fragrance,
that wafts, attracts
makes  everyone
take note.

I am your bite severe,
incisors and canines
deeply driven
without a thought,
surge of pure pleasure
expressed in a way
that may seem cruel
when the tremors of ******
washes over every cell
merging it in to a flow
seeking the sea of tranquility.

I am your moment of stillness
you, a drop of dew
that glows and awaits rebirth
when the sun kisses and dissolves you
in few golden moments.

I am your smile
so gentle, that makes
my heart stand still
with a feeling that come from
the heart of cosmos.

I and you aren't two
we lose the deep consciousness
by the play of this illusory world
where we pretend
we do things to survive
and earn a right of passage.

Nirvana happens here
in this life, in small packages,
we pretend that we are contented,
but never lose sight the truth:
eternity is our true abode,
where we aren't different,
but one and the same
along with all the others.

This woman is a chameleon,
how her hues change!
she is the conqueror-
wearing the false hues of the conquered;
a desire for perfect conquest, in disguise.
                            She instinctively find
what she wants to conquer,
from among the smiles
identifying the heart of her like,
from its invisible presence,
from  a distance.That one moment
qualifies her as a magician of heart strings.

Her studied indifference now
is a tacit invitation
to get near her,
though concealed in many layers.
She makes sure he doesn't
miss the message,
but for the uninitiated
it goes invisible.
Sly looks he send now and then,
when she moves closer, his whisper:
"Don't you hear what my heart says?"
his half smile is being reciprocated,
what was made to look like reluctance
was in fact a challenge
for him to go and get
what he wanted,
not as a gift, but
as a hard earned asset.
He thinks she was the best
he has ever set his eyes on.
They hit it off in a bit.

A dew drenched wild flower
awaiting sun's warmth,
you are naked Venus;
        I clothe you with
transparent cumulus
spun by sparkling-
caresses with my eyes.

As we explore gently first
and then in urgent moves
the ****** alchemy of lips,
you transform in to a nimbus,
heavy with a yen to rain-
your sultry lust over mine.
Wet and swollen we stand
exhilarated to the inner core,
lit with sensual pleasure
on the threshold of losing control.

Then, like in a dream,
a nimbus sweetness envelops me,
lying supine, on a bed of goosebumps.
I receive you and the storm
that lasts till we fall asleep.

His eyes rivet on the extravagant evening sun,
in frenzied creation, profusely mixing colors,
applying on the canvas of the horizon,
painting her, his lover with astonishing precision,
--portrait of a girl in love
unmindful of what the world thinks about her
and in  total dedication to her man.
Love makes larger than life heroes out of weak mortals,
and creates echoes on the far horizons that keep on reverberating!

She sits quietly holding his hands as if it is all she needs
never thinking, it is obvious, whether this is a fallacy or ultimate truth,
that holds good for all the changing seasons.
With her long chiseled fingers she draws
something beautiful, a motif that emerged in her mind,
in front of them, the seascape, was a lively cyclorama
framed by bright ultramarine.
Like eels just out of water,  their bodies gleaming,
bikini clad glam girls, beach soldiers spearheading
an undeclared beauty attack,
on the look out for hidden challenges
while walking past the love pair,
each one stands awhile, scrutinizing her thoroughly
measuring with a scale, hidden in those eyes,
as if she was a **** on parade, even women couldn't help covet.
Though inappropriately dressed, for the beachfront appearance,
she invites more attention,  she is amused.
But after a tumultuous love, and eventful elopement
she is in bliss,  in her love-land with her prince
she is just ecstatic, no thought could  make her shake off her composure.

Her eyes practice to perfect the visual language of desire,
his lips are ever eager to munch the sweetness of her words,
her  limbs, vines in need of a trunk to climb, eyes his chiseled torso
the waves of intense desire, he feels,  lashing against his heart seeking her.

At the potter's village we met,
the dawn was only breaking, ominous,
young we were, how exciting a time it was,
shadows never made us frightened,
I made her, the way what she thinks she is,
in turn she made me the way I wanted myself,
there were no original or model, we both were
creations of each other, isn't that unique!
when we left each other, with our hearts  still smiling,
no one could, believe our words
they searched for the mark of tears.on our cheeks,
Standing on the river bank, we embraced the last time,
then, on our ways we went,
we didn't regret a bit, in a boat
called love we further sailed.

Sometimes it's a cactus,  not a rose
that pinches the heart of a lover
though, she doesn't smell musk
or her eyes aren't lined with kohl,
he was weary and looking for an elusive spirit
which even he wasn't clear what, but found in her.

Breaking away from the caravan
hurtling down the dusty road
to an unknown town in that arid desert
he spoke to the cactus, whose eyes met his
when a shiver passed through the psyche of both.

Cactus, stood looking at him, her sad smile hinted
to the heartbreaking news they have to face,
cactus, broke her silence, said she was happy
on being looked after by the hollering sun,
howling desert wind and sand storm cover her
with utmost affection,"They are my cousins,
they know me well all these years,
I let them decide for me what I need..."
they stood looking at each other, for a minute,
nothing more was to be told

"Have no misgivings, stranger, though my lover you are,
we live or die here together, but your destination is far
you are a rare one, readily gave your heart
to a mere desert cactus, that rarely flowers,
your perception, is the creation of your vibrant mind
I respect your passion and spirit of adventure,
we live the way we are made to live, why bear the pain of change,
I hope you know what I mean,
we live the way the most fitting for us, love is sacrifice too,
we both have hearts that beat together, I am blessed
but now, we have different choices, who can say who is right
the logic we espouse are different, though our hearts crave to be together*"

Deep from her eyes, he doesn't fail to notice, cruelty peeps out,
the hidden message he reads: beware eager to pounce.
Her ample cleavage signals there is warmth in store,
making the picture, quickly cozy and clear.

A sword, its curved blade
in an enigmatic smile shines,
concealing all dishonorable
objectives, stands displayed
on an alabaster white wall.

A sassy girl, hurriedly passing,
for a moment stood arrested
ran her thin, long, fingers over
the sharp blade, as if caressing
her lover, blushed for a moment,
then left hesitating, looking back.

A hot blooded youth,
his face arrogant and taut,
stood in front as if he owns it,
then that expression changes for this:
"I am it"

An old lady with
a million lines of pain running
crisscross across her face,
at the very first look, the universal mother,
had a rude shock, seeing this;
her disdain expresses in her voice thus:
"How barbaric! look at its hidden blood thirst"

Then, walks in the gentleman
wearing a green berret, as if he has
just come out of his olive green uniform,
marching stiffly as if it's a parade ground, he badly misses,
a look of admiration passes through his face
"What a fine piece, best for close combat" he rues
evidently he loves crude methods,
forgets battle fields are created first within warped brains.

A sprightly white lizard chasing a bug
accidentally steps up on
the cold blade of the sleepy sword,
as if struck by an electric shock,
down it somersaults,
falls on the ground with a dull sound,
looks up to see the strange attacker
that frightened him,
wanting to avoid any future confrontation.

The strains of flute, touched his inner being,
                   lifted him up, held aloft like a feather,
the music in gentle waves,  
                     took him through many lives he lived before
loosing all his mooring on here and now
                    he moved to the pinnacle, an unattached effulgent particle,
a sea of colors that kept changing, took him in,
                    he was liberated, from all bindings.
felt a joy exquisite, on being one with the music of the cosmic waves.

The bud feels a nip,
tender,soft, by naughty mist's
creeping fingers of desire,
defying the diktat
of  the  morning sun.
The flower within
folded under a cover
bustling to come out,
refuses to remain coy and inert.
She is unabashedly eager
for more intimate touches
by the swirling playful mist
that seems to have
a hundred fingers.
Each touch has
made her bold,
expectant, she blushes.
Quickly awakened
from slumber, she'll
wait till evening light,
fades in the garden,
when her eager lover
will again make waves,
in the air, drawing  
forms with smoky vapor.
Moving mist will tickle her
till the morning light
that has a keen eye
on this child of rose bush
in his care,
drives the amorous mist afar.

They both wandered in to the night,
unaware that the other one too,
was in the dark labyrinths prowling,
itching to bury so many lies festering,
painful it felt, not even letting the stars
know that what it meant for their love,
that was a wild red flame creating hopes of permanence.
the stars twinkled above with fervor
night was the marsh, convenient for them to hide
every dead dream deep in to its slush, the past
but they knew this night, they would never walk past,
the stench of dreams forcefully buried would haunt
even if they pretend everything is pushed
too deep in to the mud and they are clean hereafter.
when they came out one by one, unaware of the other
drained and ridden by anxiety-
a pale moon was waiting for them to reappear from the quagmire
on her face was a quizzical look,
the moon has her rays driven deep in to their darkened psyches
yet he thought his secrets weren't exposed,
he sat looking at the melancholy moon,
and sang that song that pleased his love, without fail
it sounded like a ritual for the dead ones, dreams in fetus.
then, she approached on tiptoes as if she is a form of death
out to steal unfortunate lives
they stood face to face, everything was revealed,
the cadaverous moon looked on them both
they were felled as if eaten by past, a sleep that will never let them go.

With my hands around you, I slept,
and drempt we acquired wings,
flew up hovered above the clouds,
followed the white storkes that seek
far away lands that are still warm.
Sky was the world we always eyed
as we wanted to live closer to it
with the wonder remaining undiminished,
we noticed the white clouds turn pink
flew above the extended meadows of clouds,
saw they change colors as time
travels with sun, then moon appears,
making us feel we need to drink
the milk she graciously sheds all over the world.

Now, we went closer to the valley of night
and heard rounds of gun fire unawares,
unmistakable smell of blood followed,
war cries heard aloud, followed by the cry of wounded people.
you were frightened and lamented,
like a dove in distress,"Why did we fly?
could have contented with what we have,
look at the humans, they ****
and feel happy that they could ****
the other person, fantastic!
but why don't they see,
that they shoot themselves, not others.
I hate this though we inhabit a world beautiful.
but who gives his whole being to beauty?
and just love one another, see that we are not separate!"

I woke up with my hands around you,
and found there was distress in your face,
wasn't it yet another bad dream, I wonder,
It's past midnight, but the gunshot, I heard-
still resounds outside,
      I can't sleep any more...

She labors to smile,
irony draws lines
on her embittered face,
thick dark iron bars,
temporarily cage pain;
yet the risk
the two run is toxic.
soon they 'd have to face it,
unmistakable indications reveal,

her velvet voice over the phone,
conjured up an image,
drastically different,
a sadness now faintly asks
his permission to spread quickly,
confused he postpones, buying time.

guilt, a shaggy, smelly, hound
suspicion, its dominant trait,
lurks sniffing around,
the table they mutely sit,
like prisoners of unburied past
convoluting the plot,
by playing ***** tricks.
the air thickens
chocking both,
the haunt leers, licks its paws in glee
what is its intention?

"You look more or less
like him, my former lover-
I try to erase from memory
by every which way possible,
sorry about that, but i can't help it,
he traded in pain of many kinds
ingeniously, nothing else he did"
she shoots from the hip.
memory of an evil genius
was quickly resurrected by him
from the assortment of stereotypes,
vision of caravans transporting
gun powder kegs of bad memories, flashed
he had a match stick handy.
soon, everything exploded to culminate;
darkness devoured all,  breaking limits.
caravans slog towards horizon, one after other still.

A sun, we have
belonging to us alone,
a river of ever flowing
cool waters, our own
where fish from my *****
swim towards her
mossy secret chamber,
a blue sky spreads
all for us, where clouds
of our making
wear colors,
we like  them to adorn.
No make believe
this world is  for us
to be alone with each other,
we carved it
out of nowhere
cut it out like a ribbon
from the map of universe
as we wished.
we are strangers
considering time
in human scale;
but every minute,
each symbolic ritual reiterates,
that we are from too far
where unbound from
the tangles of time and
the elements of a star;
we had known
each other for eons,
light from that far away rays
still shining in our eyes-
alone can speak that secrets, well
she is energy pure--
personified,
Shakti, the female power
eternally seeking Shiva
me,  the male in universe
for the dance of creation.