Another Enchanted Dawn

circa, 2010

The soft petals nested cozily,

Tightly held together by the sepals.

Sweet fragrance drummed inside,

Raring to escape tender frontiers,

Dainty bud under the silvery moon,

Gently swaying in the chilly breeze.

From far across a vast expanse,

The rays of the sun quietly found its way,

And touched the flower bud.

Cradling it in light,

Caressing it with warmth.

The calming promise of a new day.

The bud now bathed in warmth and love,

The petals first abashedly peeped out.

Fascinated with the world outside,

Boldened by the exuberant sun,

Stepped out its little alcove,

Smiling radiantly in resplendent hues.

The fragrance awaiting freedom,

Took flight into the azure sky.

Snaking across, twirling out,

Gliding into unbounded directions.

Teasing the senses with a whiff,

Before soaring away on its unstoppable trip.

With blossoms heralding fresh hope,

Vibrant tints uplifting the soul,

Elusive smells luring out newer dreams,

Hitherto, an unsullied day was born.

Promising a fresh beginning,

With another enchanted dawn.

Born Again

circa, 2010

I  flutter my wings,

I try to take off.

I wish I could soar,

 Farther than the skies.

I wish there was no limit,

No boundaries to hold me back.

 

The heart yearns for autonomy,

The mind aspires to break free restrictions,

The soul hopes to thrash out manacles.

And yet I live life chained,

Sinking deeper into the quicksand,

Smothering my sense of self.

 

Burdened by past failures,

 Carrying the debt of accrued mistakes.

Living to the dictates of society,

Prisoner to its unfair methods.

Submitting to un enlightenment,

Loosing out all sense of direction.

 

The more I try to flee away,

The more I entangle myself,

 In the confines of this massive web.

I wonder if there could ever be a day,

Unbound and imbued with light.

If I could be born again?

The Moon Maiden

circa, 2010 

The falcate moon as her celestial abode,

The winsome maiden of demure mien,

Gazed down at the fecund earth,

And yearned for affable company.

 

The captivated multitudes marveled,

With detached warmth from the world below,

None evoked her in the brightness of day,

She who was an adornment of the night.

 

The nurturing earth thrived with aplenty,

For the swarming masses borne by her,

Who were besotted with her charm.

A devoted relationship of much love.

 

The maiden with her bosom bursting,

With much love and longing for company,

Implored, pleaded, meditated, wished,

That someday her earnest desire be met.

 

They say destiny can be changed,

With chaste and honest desires,

Spouting from the depths of one’s soul,

Can the moon change her destiny?

A Lake in the Desert

Cradled in the lap of the mountains,

lay a desert lake of pristine blue.

A watering hole in a thirsty land.

Serene and still, a vessel

of content and collected energy

within the walls of its simple abode.

It had for company, leafless trees

dotted on an arid terrain.

Life abounded on its gentle shores. 

A benevolent nurturer

in a harsh landscape,

where grace was hard to come by.

The rain clouds had been drifting

at the whims of the bellowing winds.

Tousled and sapped of this arduous journey

through the skies, longing for a place to rest,

Until it chanced upon this immaculate blue.

Serene, still, and inviting.

Weary of its restlessness, and

Tired of its ceaseless wandering,

A longing to be home at peace set in. 

Love surged through its billowy bosom,

as the clouds hastened to descend, with 

Tender kisses that pattered on the lake.

Tranquility seeped as the clouds

Melted into the dewy lake, and

the color turned a deeper blue.

A respite to the yearning multitudes,

the waters settled in an endless embrace,

Under the sanguine light of the full moon.

The Violence of Interference

It takes patience and understanding

To simply watch the butterfly emerge

From the cocoon that confines.

Yet, protects and promotes

The possibility of being

A butterfly.

To not rush in,

Presuming certainty 

Of what should be.

To orchestrate the unfolding

Would be to mutilate

And kill the possibility

Of what could have been

The delicate flutter, of

A butterfly.

Being Love

I walked by the shore

Carrying a seemingly heavy burden,

Almost at the verge of sapping,

When I had a chance encounter with love.

Masquerading as a gentle gust of wind

that played and teased and danced

Before it turned into a heavy gust

And shook me to the very core.

What can one do but breathe in and out?

Little whiffs of this perfect storm

Which I sense with awe.

An encompassing love that reveals

the fullness, sweetness and tenderness

of the many shades of love.

Enduring purity like a mother’s,

Silent strength of a father’s.

Faith like a friend’s, as steps match

and measure stretches of land on a long walk.

The innocent trust in a child’s love.

It evokes a lover’s love, with a shared breath

Fingers entwined under a canopy of stars.

Glimpses of many shades of perfection.

What can one do but learn in the presence of love?

Learn to love, unencumbered by delusions.

I pause, I pray and offer obeisance

As I learn to be love, to be loved.

Light as a feather, I waft with this wind

On an endless journey transcending time and place.

Colors

 I stand at the intersection,

Of two busy streets.

As I wait for the signal to change,

I see you walk past unhurriedly.

Gently smiling.

And when you are long gone by,

I feel a difference.

I feel a little bit of you in me.

Like the parched earth,

I seem to take you in.

Then I realize, it’s not just you

But you, you, you and you,

All of you, a little in me.

Myriad hues,

Colors that you all cast on me.

Your shadows now belong to me,

If only a little bit.

Your doubts and fear and pain,

As also your joy, hopes and dreams.

I reflect your colors about me.

Some of you take me by the hand,

We fly to a faraway place,

Walk by green pastures,

Smell the flowers by the wayside.

But you have to leave too.

I wonder if there is anything of me,

You take with as you leave?

What is this color I pass on?

Is it my own?

Or is it of someone long gone by?

A color bestowed

At a different point in time?

In this exchange of colors,

There isn’t any that’s just mine,

When there is no me.

Autumn

 Summer is gone.

The tree tired, Of

its sweet burdens.

Leaves, flowers, fruits.

The autumn wind,

A gentle respite.

Delicately unburdens,

Scatters near and far.

Then, bare limbs

Liven the skyline

In a soft, slow dance.

Followed by a 

long tranquil sleep.

Incubating dreams, of

a fresh spring.