The plan was perfectly drawn
      nobody doubted it was flawed,
but every day and night added
     particular effects on the sketch,
each changing season had a whim
     that made a clear impact on it.

Even the most perfectly laid plans
      need to be approved by spirits
the cosmos will incessantly unleash,
      that in no way anyone can control.

The plans would never go wrong, I thought,
    her invocations to the mysterious
forces of universe, alone make it happen,
    in all humility now I realize!

Deeply I cherish, the feminine power,
       that walks with me matching step to step,
  in the true tradition  of brahminical wisdom, I chant:
      "Not for me, but all this sacrificial offering,
for the plants, animals and humans, the whole of universe.
       Each and every speck in this limitless cosmos
is webbed together, for ever and aye,
    Oh!   the consciousness that pervades in all
the connecting stream flowing to the ocean,
      be the lighted lamp, burning within,
dispel once and for all the darkness of ignorance."

Morning mist frames her face, the contrast, he couldn't miss
a wild flower  fresh, bathed in dew drops, she becomes fulfillment.
A bee, as usual seeking honey,without being aware what awaits,
sleeps in her  chamber,couched in her love the whole night,
he stole her heart, she whispers, he keeps it as the fragrance
and the pollen smeared all over his being vowing never to remove,
a love it is, in essence different from all that he has hitherto known,
as if in a dream, stealing her heart,  he flies up to the ultramarine sky
all abuzz with love tunes , orchestration of nature, intoxicating,
his heart is full of light love fills, now this bee is even ready to die.

World Peace
Is a percolation problem
And not of chance
Of needs and fulfillment-
The common wealth
Of the humanity.

My mind sings the same
Peaceful songs of Spring Winds.
My thoughts slur drunk on this
Ectasy non alcoholic daybreak
Cloud cover morning
Olive umbrella angelic
Above my dizzy head full of
Music and imagined rhythms.
Slow and sleepy I pass by people
With fogged samsara desires material
Illusory physical elation temporary and unrealized lives littered with impernance they go for the quickest fix for their ocean scale emptiness.
My feet tread clouds and sidewalks both,
My ears hear voices and the enchanting hidden hysteria of life both.
My day is sadness and enlightenment both.
I accept the frailty of my flesh and momentary flash existence of this planet and other planet and Janet the Janitor of nowhereland the books in my bedroom the growing hair on my head this March and next March the midnight coffee in my cup and daisy growing outside the dry cleaner down the street. I accept it all with adoration for the simplicity of living and the Babylon sprouting inside my soul my lungs my heart.
Bus truck semi truck Cadillac station wagon pour in metallic blur beneath solace sunlight, everybody is as happy and hollow as I am though perhaps less content with that circumstance.
God is the conceptual flower in you and me
We dance,  its fundamental I realize now to keep on dancing and keep on laughing.  Else the world be swept in nihilistic tendency and we become outlived by
Our fears.

I love you still just the same as ever,
All these lovely things You've said of me,
They Don't die with summer.

Once I grow weary I think of you again,
All the years and everything we did
They don't die with summer.

Now when my feel of winter is plain,
Or the feel of spring isn't quite here,
Then you are once again near
It is the beginning of summer again.

I love you with my heart of gold,
I need your heart to shine my glow
And it wont fade and die with summer,
I need your warmth of life to guide me
And stay beside me when you find me
And I will never die with summer.

Sadly to say, nothing lasts forever,
This being the truth one might still
Persist to try to live forever with
A prayer or a star or a blessing
Trying to stem the tide of all of this
With yet another eternal summer wish.

I hate to admit it, this may be a stunner,
But the emotion love is the only thing
That never dies with summer.

A loved one to hold close to you

It's a shoulder to cry on when your feeing sad

Loyal because its with you the whole night and will be there when you wake up in the morning

Listens to you talk about your fears and thoughts

What if men were like pillows?

We are creation and creator, we are light and darkness,we are white and black. We are as eternal and ephemeral as the day, fore just as it does, we carry the light and recreate ourselves in darkness.

my longing (for the crude, cheap replacements of human emotion scattered across this minefield known as the internet)
has entirely disappeared

i am filled

are you?

do your eyes dart to the lightning bolt in the right hand corner
always longing, never satisfied
(it's been years since you talked with God
perhaps you dont even believe in Him
say He'd need to strike your head from heaven)

do you miss the stale crusts of lovers past,
crave money,
get hunger pains of longing at the thought of being beautiful or famous
when really you are starving for something missing from your soul?

God,

He is the answer.
If you want it
If you let it

His Spirit can change you
fill you
transform you
(and you will be happy)

My lover is shy;
She would not let me touch her.
I wrote poems to her;
They fell silent on the paper.

My lover is sly,
She would tape us together,
Reading my longings, my desires,
Playing to my fulfillment.

Moaning,
Groaning,
Bound together, glued,
Holding our hands together;
One strong fragrance
Holding our breath together;
Silent climatic death,
Sweet ecstasy.