So many gaudy flowers here
empty, cloying sweetness,
I flutter and come to you, My wildflower,
For only you exude
The nectar that I crave.

– For my love

In my hands I held a moment,
Too beautiful to let go,
Imbuing me in its color,
Fighting time’s flow.

But who can stop the march of time?
Stop in mid-flight a moment sublime?

I opened my palms and it flew,
Fluttered its wings like a butterfly,
And a million colors exploded,
Refulgent sparks of beauty…

A sanguine red here,
An azure blue there,
An austere white,
Mixed in the darkest black.

And then more moments flew in,
One, two, a thousand more,
And there I stood watching, agape,
The dance of moments, the dance of life.

The million colors of this world,
Blending into each other endlessly,
Dancing like children, for no reason,
Laughing, Crying, Loving passionately.

I looked at my small palms and laughed -
Let it all fly, let the moments go free,
Heaven is right in front of you,
Open your palms, and for yourself see.

Inspired by a beautiful October sunset.

The wind blew strong through her hair,
The branch swaying slowly, to and fro,
And she went up high, so high in the air,
Leaving her worries far behind, so low.

I saw her face, half concealed, glowing
With perfectly harmonious, exuberant glee,
As if saying to me, without even knowing -
I may be tied to this branch, but I am free.

An empty room in an empty house,
A wooden table in the midst, glistening.
A boombox on the table blares
And strains in the silence, listening.

A bird outside chirps incessantly,
Trying to break free, seemingly in rage.
But every tree, every leaf is mute,
The silence an overarching cage.

Standing in the room, I think mutely,
“If the silence breaks, all would be free.
It has captured and enslaved,
The bird is a slave, so is the tree.”

Conscripts to the deafening silence,
The heavens seem a deaf profanity,
No more can I brook this. I scream
A loud cry, the bugle of mutiny.

All my rage, my energy, even my self
Disappear into my deafening noise,
And suddenly I see: sound and silence
Are one, Sound is silence’s voice.

Epilogue:
Now I can hear the bird’s sonorous
Song, the boombox playing mellifluously,
And yet both are silent, as if singing
The song of silence, merrily, blissfully.

Have you ever…
Beheld the azure sky,
Pondering what eagles search,
Flying sublimely, so high?

Have you ever…
Dived into the emerald sea,
As the waves lashed endlessly,
Making a million furious plea?

Have you ever…
Stood on the sun as it burns,
Annihilating itself in mute rage,
And wondered what it yearns?

Have you ever…
Seen the stars float listlessly,
Aeons upon aeons awaiting;
Awaiting someone patiently?

Have you ever…
Stood on the moon dazed,
As the blue earth rose, and
The barren land stared unfazed?

Have you ever…
Seen a leaf caught in a breeze,
Floating, Twirling, Dancing,
Aimlessly, with effortless ease?

Have you ever…
Looked at these wonderful things,
And heard the silent song,
The whole of creation sings?

Have you?

The dawn is nigh
On woods asleep,
Life breathes anew
On dewy leaves.

The mist dissolves
In hasty retreat,
Bowing to apollo
In humble defeat.

But life still slumbers,
The leaves still weep,
Waiting for a warrior
To sound the bugle deep.

A dash of red,
A lovely tweet,
Behold! The morning bird,
Dancing on her own beat.

Gracefully she rides
Her windy chariot,
Effortlessly exhorting
The woods quiet…

Wake up soldiers!
The sky is red,
Life wins again,
The night is dead!

Listening raptly,
A squirrel stands up,
And bounds away
To proclaim: Wake Up!

Epilogue: Inspired by a beautiful red bird I saw on a quiet morning. This poem came out a lot different than the way I intended it in the beginning. Maybe I’ll scrap it altogether and write a new one. Or why scrap it, I’ll simply write a new one later .

The sand hits my face,
With a million little whits,
A million little memories,
A million little whips.

Life seems trapped,
In shifting dunes,
The immortal enshrined,
In mortal tombs.

I whisper to my camel,
And he ambles on,
Leaving our footsteps,
On the sands forlorn.

I think about the marks,
Am caught-up in the past,
But my camel seems blase,
He knows they won’t last:

The breeze of time
Will Kiss the scars,
Inhuming them eternally,
Beneath the listless stars.

The desert accepts all,
Wild, Careless and Free,
Never choosing, never wanting,
Knowing how to just be.

My camel sees much more,
With his sunken eyes,
I may be clever,
But he is really wise.

Epilogue: The desert is life and sand is what it consists of: memories, experiences… The wind is time. Our lives are trails left on the sand: ephemeral, for time (wind) will eventually sweep it away. We should learn from life (desert): Just be, and accept everything on the face, as it is, and move on without getting attached to the past.