but the moon has many shades,
and the canoe still has to sail
distances traveled on plains.
lost raindrops never regained.

(even as thoughts erase memories
you walk on dead grass
leaving your imprints behind)

the iciness of thin air
hangs over the eaves; and
grey edges of the walled mirror
smiles unrevealingly;

and ...

the gaze of unredeemed
grips my whole body
made of flesh ...
or is it hollowed skin
wrapped around assembled bones
gathered through centuries;

there ...

over the window sills
where silvery moon shines
outside this vacant ….
dull ….. dreary …
oppressively soundless room
where silence .....
quietly ..... silently .....
proposes an unruffled gloom;

Shall we walk into the mist?
From where no one has ever returned
Where unexplored mysteries sleep
And a haze that explains nothing
Overshadows forlorn belongings;

This is the road that walks there
Where no shadows have ever followed
And no lover has stayed alone
Where with open arms they embrace
The abysses of unclaimed depth;

Where shadows that lived a life
No longer exist,
Where the trembling heart
No longer breathes,
Where journeys no longer pretend;

Let us hide once beyond recognition
Let's today walk into this mist.

I hold on to you as you fly
High over cerulean carpet sky
Like free, unchained desires
Far away from roadsteads
Tasting the salt of unbound water
Into open countenance of sea’s delight;

I think I hold your strings as you fly
Plunge into chasm of infinite heights
Over white flames where you travel
Caressing neighbourhood horizons; and
I stand augured on the shore watching
As you carouse with fire and winds’ whim.

And as merry a fool as there is one
You remind me of Prehensions and Strings
Whose hold would never matter
If you did not know how to fly -
- Partners in that flight
- Partners in this walk of life.

window vane -
unwarranted baggage
swaying ….
lost in thoughts -
questions which way to go
- mild winds ..

when young and relieved this evening
grows on to me ... to be a man
I will look back on his turgid days
and follow him sometime.

when virile sky of this elliptical night
chained and restless, elusive kind
questions me on busy carrefour
and leaps forward ... suddenly .. twofold.

when etch horizon of this folklore
nears the terminus of wrinkled floors
I will walk through caverns of dark light
and carry the bier, holding high.

(every silence sounds different
unrecognised ... unvoiced tales
ensconced in far crevices
so often, galloping miles away ......)

wrinkled causeries of eider-down duvet

blissful next morning -

testimonials of you and me.

I have hardly ever described you

but you remind me of rain,

whose purling beads of pure ecstasy

mildly paints

and easily

swoons by fragrance of spring

incepted of new breath

and wings my dream.

I never thought I needed to ……….

I never realised .... I could'nt ………

Night accepts the invitation of another day with seldom seen alacrity.

And the quiescence of sleep rests tatterdemalion blue skies above.

Through many continents my words wander ……

hesitantly through centuries.

The ennui fabric of epithelial prologue

seeks way of eminent tomorrow.

A virgule nonpareil light slants through his mind ....
--- whose looks can not deceive trained eyes.

Looking / searching through pliant mind on whose surface rusts the rust. And whose wallet searches for impecunious illumination.

It almost rhymed.

It didn’t.

Surely didn’t

But stood out as if its penurious lyricism was almost a blessing.

Almost an assumed freedom.

Dulcet winds of violoncello plays my room. It has already composed a quartet of an opera, embracing the silence of mutiny ..... of several instruments that propose lying scattered thereto.

Faint knocks on the front door. Listen. Recompense - a pledge not a mercy. Do not look beyond.

I seek not to ignore, not to look away into the distant. I wish not to armour myself against uncalled saccharine glee floating at the corner of my eyes. Smile with less scruple, as I am willing to.

I want to.

I have to.

I shall.

Celebrate.