Wander not dear- blow with the fair breeze & fly the high seas,
All the fretting & sulking stoked, to find an enduring harmony in me,
Wander not into sounds that trick, with their spirited agonies,
Come seize the day, for we shall speak in the melody, God meant for you & me.
Look into my eyes; you shall reach the end of all your journeys,
Place your hand over my beating heart, & find it surpass yours in all degrees,
Like the butterfly, in a God endowed span, enjoys itself thoroughly,
Seeking nothing from flower to flower, save the sweetest of honey,
Live the joy & exuberance as God meant it, rest all must be memory,
Like the sweetness cast by the meekest flower, on a winter day, on a bended knee.
*             *             *
Let the cuckoos sing their sweetest,
Where lovers with a heavy heart rest,
Let the winds blow their trumpets
Where a lone candle burns in earnest.
Let the stars burn their brightest,
Let the darkest hour put them through the harshest test,
Let the coy flowers wistful in sobs of dew throw a riot,
In half shut eye, in half a dream reach their height.
Let the sunbeams open vaults of lit treasures,
And from each casement poet’s thought & sigh come together,
Let the moon in amorous pursuits,
In dew locks of the night, break into cold sweat.
With too great a capacity for joy,
When the world has little occasion for it.
Tarry not- for here I stand in abated breath,
Patient as the ants in your spell, I lie sedate,
When each moment pricks, like a thorn-embedded & plucked,
Before, in brooding fears & doubts, I drown,
Release me from this anguish, gently, to be reborn.
*                   *                   *
When the river persists the hills bow,
When the fruits heave the branches bestow,
Come monsoons the wind must with all his might blow,
Out on errands, the waning moon must return in her full halo.
Come the season, every tree pledges to burst into her splendor,
All entrusted with a purpose, a task to accomplish,
A soul to save, a heart to give away, a time to grant a wish,
For what do you wait- when God’s work lies incomplete at your door?
My time stands encased in a dew dropp in mid-air,
Holding my share of turmoil’s in sighs & cares,
While I knit verses in the trails of the birds & the bees,
Impart some sustaining truths that good things
come to those who wait on destiny, in a fighting frenzy.
Let's lend our heart's and spirits to light a hearth
And thereon, find new ways to measure our heart's girth.
6th Nov-2010