The confluence

The confluence


A scenery painted, an empty canvas weaving verve
I discern myself, seated there almost camouflaged in mirth.
The clamor of the birds to mellow me;
Their intimacy with the woods I wonder at.
Every flower a relation, every leaf to offer a canopy.
The butterflies; appliqué tailored on a fabric of the worlds.
The dew drops, ornaments of the slender grass,
Oh! How they carry the burden of beauty!
The ephemeral decorations, an immortal frame;
My heart guzzles the beauty.
Gods pour buckets of brilliance through the lacuna;
Floods every tiny reach…the ubiquitous sun.
The deep hum of the veteran woods.
The secret affairs of the young branches…
A brush, an embrace…youthful misdemeanors.

And then I see a falling leaf
The hazel tint…a sailing boat.
A falling heart…losing life, parched and withered for love.
All the rapture around ebbs away.
It sails and sails in the blue sky…hope.
Praying for an aegis, praying for his love.
The gods piqued, ‘he prays to her’ they say.
A bucket of raven, black as death…emptied
It empties every cup of mirth,
Knocking down all hope, they say.
Blinded already, he feels no murk.
The raven, he feels her hair.
The cover…his refuge in her eyes.
‘Curse if the gods’ not anymore.
For he is in love.

A storm they gift him
Gods eager to make him a castaway.
The rain his love cries,
The seething heart…no storm to match.
He fights in despair, what an affliction they face!
The pounding waves, her heart beat he feels;
Hears his in it too.
No more is he blinded, clear is his destiny.
He lays all hope in her now.
Thinks about her eyes so arcane…
So deep, so pure. The depths of emotion
Which he may never comprehend.
He feels lost…in limbo, is restless.
His heart stolen, not left with hers even.
He whispers her name, pleads the winds to kiss her for him.
But, the minions of the gods! They abandon him!
He swallows the misery, calls out her name.

Serenity to follow…the storm dries.
The rising sun engulfs the murk.
The warmth of her hug pours life.
The gods retreat in silence…subdued.
For the hearts do not belong to the mortal worlds now.
Her smile redeems the beauty in life.
The mystery of love…
Takes birth none know how.
It’s harmony with life…your name.
A tune rising from my heart, paints life.
The voice of nectar…paints hope.


18/1/07- I sat by the Rajpath for abt 2 hrs just thinking that day before I wrote this. The autumn leaves felt heavenly.