built on the stacks of love
rendering moments with finesse and compassion
oh! so is the mansion of life
fitted with murals and sculptures of moments miniscule
would anyone bother to have a look
on the intricate work of bonds in details
will any glance ever realize
the pain of gathering the same
Often, everything gets lost in the long way
except the structure that
stands and the hands
which stacked the bricks…
And numb …under the orchid
I had awaited your steps since dawn
here you return …when the sun is about to set
When forgotten are promises
Lost are desires ,buried under the soil
The urge has vanished
and I motionless & still
stare at you…
The sun sets with a dab of crimson. It was all scarlet like my blood.
The hanging branches of orchids which yearn to droop
And reach me
How enchanting they appear and soothing while their petals brush against my cheek
Isn’t the path where I step barefooted embrace my feet into its heart deep
While the nostalgic air brings sense of belonging to my traveling soul
Which remains awake for nights before it finally rests to sleep
Doesn’t the echoing bells of a temple nearby thud my core ,whence I vibrate with
my pulse dancing to the cosmic lore
will n’t I be teary eyed when overflows my core with emotions inexplicable and words get lost
in the forest where I travel
they like the new born leaves shy ,sometimes shiver as the dried aged ones do before they die
I know not the change
nights long or the sweating day's pain
Is it the moon’s peeping game
or the wildflower’s fragrance putting
Samsara to shame?
the flow of time and course
alters abruptly and ceaselessly moves
sometime letting the scarlet dusk
embrace me or often
leaving the stars in jealousy
while the dewy drops sparkle
momentous fancies dreaming of being real
on the sandy shores
when our intertwining fingers and seashells will play.
While the swindler burnt my cheeks with
its sumptuous golden glow
I changed sides back and forth
for a while I was in shade
hugging memories sheltered the autumn skin
while the seasons played
The silken locks refused to listen
falling like cascade disturbed the rhythm
the song of past struck
few strings in galore
the beats struck the chord
and music echoed.
She cleared the mist with her fingers etching the outline on the glass. The wintry night had left an envelope of thin layered fog on the window pane. She stood there every night after her dinner watching the lone moon hung in the sky. The moon wasn’t visible today and she was wiping the glass to have a glimpse .
The breeze knew the heartbeats of her soul and carried the message of her silent yearnings to faraway land of dreams,where dwelt the twin part of her soul.
Wasn’t it so unworldly, pocketing treasures in the casket of nature and reliving the moments at peace? Nothing mattered as long as the moon was visible to both ends of the world,they lived, breathed and felt the urge to communicate through the dancing waves of morning and night breeze.
How often the nightingales sang and the butterflies danced? Her eyes sparkled and knew the message was through.
Beyond several seas , the orchid had bloomed .