THE EMPTY PAGES
Empty pages are like seas
One just needs the guts to jump
And lose forever the predictable.
Once filled up they lose their charm
In certainty of articulation,
Suffocating the thrilling wait
For what can be and cannot be.
Fairies swing in crazy glee
Over the light that lies askance
On the pristine page of moments
Epics are born and wither perchance.
***
THE CONJUROR
The quivering leaves would whisper soft
Tales of morning dewdrops lost,
Sporting sunrays create a song
On the leafy veins and boughs.
A half-clad boy would dance in glee
Beneath the cavorting singing tree,
Unaware of the frown of hours
And loss and gain of ticking clocks.
The joy creeps slow in a vacant heart
As I stand and stare at streets
Drenched in nascent noontime glow
After dark and drizzly desolation.
A thousand radiant suns rise now
In the smile of a slum boy poor,
Siesta of a unicorn,
Shattered by the conjuror.
***
WHEN YOU MUST GO
When you have to go
On a long journey towards a lotus
Of a thousand petals safely enshrined
In a dewy slumber and hesitation,
You look around for a last reminder
To proceed without expectations.
While the steps are still strong enough
To hold your frame that would descend
To the vistas shimmering soft
In moon-blanched dreams and ruminations,
You step down with a vacant heart
Beyond all endings and new starts.
The lotus holds the secret drops
Of fragrant hues and nectar true
of certainty and meaning bright,
That may be touched or perhaps not;
But the journey must be made
Beyond the last frontiers crossed.
***
