sometime it is
in the act of writing
that we create the sense
of what we want to say

as if the process of articulation
    when we are fishing for the proper words
is generating meaning
inventing itself in its own genesis

leaving the poet amazed

sometimes even the readers

"Aren't you now tired of that green?
different from the zeitgeist once was
the ****** pulsation existed all along with me!
I can see it in the movement  of yours
when I  deep kiss you, not there, you are!
it's too long, our liaison, my love listen,
now it's time for a change, haven't you
seen the clouds in quick changing formations?
Yes, rest you need and a period of leisure
would do you good.You have to don a hue
to suit to to the mood, and yellow it is"
The setting sun,languidly to the leaf said aloud.
She felt the relief, she unhurriedly received
his words  purple tinted.pointing the direction.

The mountain wind, when the leaf  was green,
an intense lover, moved her,always.
A leaf callow and green in the wind,
passion personified, during the gale she was
the aggressive partner, demanding more,
"You are hanging here for long,on this branch,
knowing all, now time to let go, hear the music
permeating through dust and clouds and lives
transform yourself, you have danced enough
with me here, change pace, let go, begin
a journey new and find, what the cosmic hum
tells to every single cell, and what's in the end,
get ready to take newer forms from now on my love"

Wind took her by hand and she let go every thing
and naked to the soul, she jumped in to the deep below,
a valley, in ferment, flowers, fruits and leaves
in abundance, stood with bated breath,
beckoning, welcoming, cheering the fallen leaf,
the last dance it was,with the wind and sun,
in whispers the wanton wind told her" time to go,
feel light and explore, discover the secrets still left"

Earth, red and fertile was much pleased, smiled at her,
"Come down beloved, here I lie in wait, impatient,
this is your bed, not a minute late you are, here
as before in the appointed hour,you are aware
at any time you have to end up as the salt of the earth,
you'll love it here as much you did on a flowering branch,
bit by bit like the fragments of a cloud in blue sky,
you will become one with me; the fecund muddy earth,
new seeds with a vision encrypted inside will fall on you
get nourished by what your love donates and would sprout.

We are the afternoon wilted curcurbits  , leaves drawn and froward ,
pining for evening thundershowers , emboldened , tempting a watery death with blind ambition
Yet ,  we are also creativity trapped in religious admonition
Miracles discombobulated , manipulated
Named , taught , placed on a board with our heads facing the floor
Following a pre-plotted map with the robotic horde* ...

Childhood crushes , hiding in bushes , first kisses
Buzzing , unaware of the crutch of love
Standing by night fires , peering across the -
timothy carpet , embers crackling in route -
to heaven
Spinning the Pepsi bottle on a loud Cicada
evening , setting marshmallows afire , wondering
out loud over the Moon and stars
Our breath visible* .....

A Lighthouse to light beyond the Reasons
An Astragal to tone down the Passion
A Lantern to bright beyond the Horizons
In that permanent Love's Peregrination
Some wished him to be an Anchor
He is just a moored Beacon, offshore.