Time is the eternal sculptor
Chiseling away through centuries
To create innovative masterpieces
Where many facets of life emerge
Bridging the past, present and future
Shaping the moments we dwell in
Where events are scheduled
To display the varied installations
Which cannot be replicated
Recorded in the chronicles of time
When our world will fade away
But time will be there till eternity
Relentlessly sculpting for the future
For, time brings change
And everything changes, except time itself

The mind toiled with vengeful thoughts
Seeds of arrogance were planted in furrows
From where regressive thoughts grew
Watered by the seething flow of rage
Draining the soul of all the positive juices
Now left with a parched soul, full of cracks

Open your eyes to the beauty of this planet
Nature, since ages, is a work of creation
Its creativity is beyond compare-a masterpiece
We have to wake up to see the true beauty
Open the eyes of our souls to view the vivid colors
All artifacts are work of the master craftsman
Where else can we see so much creativity?
It is all around us, in the midst of nature
The testimony to the works of supreme creativity

In the landscape of love
The lake is a serene presence
Where two hearts enjoy the recess
Diving into depths of happiness
And soak up the warmth of love

I loved looking at what the mirror showed
I loved looking at the one you loved...
Now all I see is shattered glass and
and bits of me scattered  all around...

One such shard you embedded in my heart,
that's all I have to call my own.
Alive but dead I seem to all.
Pallbearers waiting to get done with the job.

Nothing to leave 'cause I gave you all,
my heart, my soul, my body, my all.
Selfish they say, look at this ***** factory,
but how can I give what is not mine to give.

You are my person, I've ceased to be.
You are my vision, I've ceased to see.
You are the silence, I've ceased to write.
You are everything I need and all I don't.

This parting gift , my heart holds dear,
saved for another heart to unbreak.
The glass shard mine to give,
take it now, before they throw it away.

short legs
patched jeans
kicking leaves
piled to my knees

remembering color
living in sea salt pines
leaves little to imagine
of autumn rhymes

sweetgum sourwood birch
sycamore and dogwood
apple leaves beneath the plum tree
ash hickory maple and oak
mountains afire in Tennessee

eyes closed
smell of smoke-
kicking leaves
to the wind.

r ~ 9/16/14