Edge

What would you sit there and wonder

let me tell you

love fear hate derision pretense 

all were true

it was best to not wonder more

so we did not

but if you sit and I cross your mind

know you cross me too

now when we swim across 

to more oceans 

and different lands

if you find me in another 

find me then for her 

and you will find me for me

I will till then try to loose you

and un-clinch my fingers

grappling your version with me

hoping that you find 

the same unsettling love

which settled in me

and then maybe you will see everything left behind 

was same and more

but now lost 

on the edge of our past. 

The melancholy of wisdom

I caress her in the dark

as touch magnifies my presence

she lays peaceful

reaching ignorance of her heart

that doesn’t absorb the light when made aware

wisdom is not so absolute

as the ignorance complete in itself

this melancholy of opposites biases to 

everything which knowledge can’t impart

wisemen solving riddles that didn’t exist in the dark

and in a light way 

she goes along the not so wise path

bearing the weight of knowing 

that wisdom is only as reasonable as all thoughts combined

but not wise enough

to create things that unreasonability could define. 

500 likes?

500 likes on WordPress today for this blog. I look at the popup and it satisfies that 500 times my writings were noticed by the wonderful people here.

Thank you friends for feeling – for me, for yourself, for everyone.  You keep things alive around you and I am honored to be in one such space. Its ecstatic when someone can take home a share of my world and I can take home theirs without disturbing it and I think that is enough for a day each day.

What you are thinking today and tomorrow and there after…I am waiting, listening, reading 🙂

A Hymn

transfixed by the moon
in the finished glare
come.            stare.

do you know what it is?
pain engulfed in love

free. incorrigible. beyond repair.

My solitude in the gloom
where your single flower bloomed
the inane incantations
always worked to incapacitate

my moth,
that never did recuperate

             how did he swallow himself?

he poured the tea
while uncurling her hair

with verity on the verge
but never gone
the idolatry pretense
got carried on

and she kept choking
in his fresh blood
scoffing,
the moth
kept the light stuck

brightness is a scanty measure
for the dark
like when a sanguine offers
a sardonic heart

both sit to satiate the salvage
the burning light
that sought solace
and the carnal moth,
a caustic case.

Whole Death

a walking graveyard
of still houses 
to be scavenged little more 
is left open

what can pesky beaks do
                          carry on the task 
death and rest follow 
graves digging body 
and body itself 
to end it all
the savage picks up the taste
half rotten stuck in the beaks
body evolves 
birth to the burp
making it alright

whole death is whole 
unlike half hearted meal
not eaten
not forsaken.