Lusting of dark

Do you know honey, there are too many dark nights I have been afraid of. I never complained cos it helped me in a way to hide more. Hide the truth that has light in it but cannot face the light of the day. Have you seen the layers of darkness? It has steps to spread its wings the density of which can be as light as the words stuck in the bottom most cavity of lungs. You can breathe out the huffy and puffy air but not the achy waky words.
I carried this wherever I went. I admittedly also swallowed its acceptance as much as I spat out all that could fool me into believing I have nothing in me stuck anymore.
When I see bubbles bursting I have a vicarious sense of relief. Connected are the dots of its vapours merging in the air with dots inside me. We have wrung our knots in an uncanny commitment.
Hung over in the balsamic beauty, the skin scares off its lines with its teritorial supremacy. Some dodge those lines to change the way planets and stars are pulled and pushed. The orbits are all in a rhythm of music I know you play in my heart. Reality is what I live and imagination it is my real world.

Radha said to Krishna

If it was the last time I met you, love
Will you kiss me harder?
Will you seal a good bye
Till the end of time?
Will you pack it to last me forever?
So that I have you filled in me...

It's a game.
You hide
I seek
If I hide
Will you seek?

Will you turn around once more
Knowing I ll be leaving
The mortal mass has something
After all
Flesh is not weak
Only the beats are...

This time when you smile
Hold me a little longer
Perhaps I may not leave
And if I have to
Hold a part of me
I ll be all of you soon

Something in that embrace
Will have the power
To transfer the inside to inside
That makes me believe
I ll leave only to be closer to you

Fear noted

That clench in the muscle
Running through as joy
When you look at a stranger
You wonder it is another piece
In each others' imagination
An imagination melts
In reality there is a denial
A denial of familiarity
In familiarity all is known
What's known is not dangerous
With the deep love for danger
Are we creatures of fear now?

It is simple and so I like to complicate.

Loneliness. Its borders are entrenched in hope and true moment of presence.  However little is the joy you want to steal more than what you get, the surprise is that hope and ambition spawn a trap of beautiful chemistry between what is and what could be.

Dreams whispered this...

At the foot of the cliff
Lay lows and highs of chest
In its depth lay a sea of salt
Sea water tastes salty so

Everything comes at the right time- love and death

The design of desert was known
To the Garden of senses
In the rustle of its leaves
The greens had loved the barren

The prickle of tears carried a pain
Stemmed in the center felt like heart
Musters its breath to breathe its last
Showers of love, mutely pours as rain

The return of that 'whole' that was never lost

You know, when I read those words, I knew I am living those words. Today, it is the strife of temporal abode to contain the permanent fluid called 'love'. It is my life here and now in 2013 in the chilly winters of Delhi ushered in the month of November. What I am reading is that profound love story so many centuries ago. Still, the freshness of what that experience must have been like, makes me ecstatic. This earthenware I wear does come with an expiry date. What is inside me is timeless and hence always stays. The inside of that inside is even more expanding as it has His love that grows as a yearning and breaks its own pain limit with newly set euphoria born out of more pain. It is that beautiful surge of His union with me.

Knotted to be freed.
Freed to be knotted.

Frosted.

I, like every other I, went about seeking love. My lessons were not written in any books or aphorisms of enlightenment. Great descriptions of how it is the part of path you are, fitted but not to the T. Dots were flung away from any imagination. (Chuckle)
I had seen the lines. And lines blurring too. I had lived the void. Avoided the emptiness too.  The glimpse of what the face of love was what I had had already. Silently it had branched its roots underneath so tight and strong that I never realised.  Shades I had picked. True. I wanted the colours to hue me in full bloom now. From shades to colour is a difficult journey to achieve since the nature of reveal is always from colour to its shades. Perhaps that notion too is as falsified as any one perspective being solemnly right. Swathed in goodness and contoured with the beautiful finish, we are too used to judging the closure as a good closure only if it is positive. Not necessary. Positive is the first negative of negative. It is an insecure expression of the fear to be dark and be an unconventional end. This way or that way. My way or his way. It is just a way. Inch above or below to it is only human. And if one thinks -hey that is so dry, so it is. Deal with it. Stop by for some melancholical thorns as you are too used to blossoming roses.

Wind free nothing ness

Wavelet of passion

Wrinkles of the heart wrapped as scars
Trudging in the forest of love many shades
What uncoiled the un cooked savouring
In its devouring sweeps of drenching kisses
The truth that I was made to love him
To be him while being me, letting him be me
We discovered a terrain held sacred buried
Time has tasted us and will hunger again
It is not in the end but in the journey
We seek to unite and let time drown in us.