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If.
If
this
was
to be
my
last
night
on earth
i
am
gald
i
spent
it with
you
love
one
and all
form me
just
small
man
called



'Paul.
so quick, so quick--
and it's over in appreciation's bloom
i run and kiss her- glad to be alive with you
adrenaline spread across
the slice of time i am
this life affirmed in downward rush
of vision    swallowing the whole
un    worded     awe
'i cannot be a poet now'

from reading on the drive there:
absurd psychology, it marvels at me
similizing downward flight    to that of two rakshasas thrown
from Angada's leap on Lanka
    palace tower kicked, another symbol falling
likened to Ravana's ego doomed,
ordering to **** that messenger
who revealing imminence alights the fate
of endings we all share,
how could i guess
i blindly follow orders--
the ten-headed ego writhes resistance
at the incapacity in me, the failure  
    to speak    meaningfully,
or trounce the message-bearer
routing through the speech
of others only    intoning at ten thousand feet:
om  earth   sky    cosmos
    contemplating that original love
perfect fullness     within and out
    let us realize our unity
om  peace   peace  peace

at the silence    in the noise
eudaimonic under breath as engine climbs
in moments    (i don't know how i got here)
i chant remembrance into time--
the solar warmth    a touch of ease
amid anticipation's quandary--
he has a helmet    unlike me  
    "Don't let those two mess with you,"
the camera-headed lady says to me before she jumps
her finger wagging    some distant familiarity
of jests to lighten fears    or twirl them in the air--
so cold the wind     and thin to singe the lungs--
his body hanging out the door     waiting for
her flight into his falling grasp    the plane rocks into the slamming door
the door...    is closed again for me to kneel beside
and think of next and after what has come before
    inching    'i love you' at the back of the plane
where crouched the one who whisked me here
in mystery to allow unveiling here today
from reading epic only--gazing down--"no signs" to give away
the open spaces felt and bright  treeless    vast
and getting out of car with closed eyes--
"surprise!" and there sits a plane or twenty over there
and "SKYDIVING" written on the door
which i am happy to dismiss as we walk the other way,
she wouldn't have the guts to surprise me with this--
but yes we turn around and here we are
with sky-crazies in pictures    peace and love on palms
strapped tandem     falling    living     back   still far from earth
we sign the papers under those smiles
faintly listen to the video  squawking 'court of law'
and 'choice of your own free will'
paid and signed away  we harness in and search for fear
windex for the goggles  (but how clearly will i see?)
my ***** are safe from straps or so i think
i'm conscious of the need to quip
and John and Paul--our parachutes--
become a double headed meet-your-maker Pope
for me to flatly joke about.
"Pain is good," says the pilot as
we learn the way to fall
and pile seven in a tiny cockpit,
we're off the ground before i know it
i 'woot' to sign my joy.   as much as to assent
conversations of little more than two lines
keep us feeling human as we swallow
popping in our ears,
--she'll have to keep her gum--
smoke stacks, mines, gray grids of residential scapes
seem to **** the green from curve of earth.
faintly i recall ecology, pulled into the sun
stumbling to cage the meaning of it all
a sentence forms into a trailing nonsense.
my breathing tests the press of straps on waist and chest
deafened, chanting. cease to chant.
the meaning overcome with wonderment beyond my mind.
am i missing something?
thank the pilot as a "Sir,"
"Door!!" "How long?!" "When!?!" --i hear the buckles faintly clicking,
the distance imperceptible a rush
of air i am infused with global letting be
the ball of tight electric fear
a nostril flare of otherworldly falsity--
i am here.
and tilting, instructions gibberish, shouting go! go!!
a kneeling fetal hop into the gust of void
so full the eyelash burns horizonal










.
the lines in italics constitute a paraphrase of the Gayatri Mantra
working for others
makes one poor..
special identity denied
one's voice deeply hidden
inner beauty suppressed..
livelihoods are exile
protections are dear
yet servitude keeps rule..

a new time
demands correction
straightening posture
a new discovery..
each of us stands
as connector
of many and one
one's voice found at last
exile ended
though we.. remain
here...
image @ polarityinplay.blogspot.com
Black, like a shark
Dead....who's in there?
What are you thinking?
Are you in there?

Green, smiling bright
Open to the world
And all it's glory
Your soul unfurled

Eyes, tell a story
And hide one too
What colour are yours?
For mine are blue
Eyes tell a story
They open doors
I'll tell my story
If you tell yours

Red, worn and raw
sore and tired
Have you been crying?
Or are you just wired?

Brown, smiling, somber
Showing your pain
Hiding your hurt
From loves refrain

Eyes, tell a story
And hide one too
What colour are yours?
For mine are blue
Eyes tell a story
They open doors
I'll tell my story
If you tell yours

Puffy, swollen shut
Were you in a fight?
Between two friends?
Or two lovers in the night?

Closed, showing nothing
Are you hiding from what is said
Or are you like a shark...?
with eyes black and dead

Eyes, tell a story
And hide one too
What colour are yours?
For mine are blue
Eyes tell a story
They open doors
I'll tell my story
If you tell yours.
"Allegory", my possessive  pet cat,
get terribly curious, when my door remains closed,
her soft  purrs turn frenzied feline shrikes,
when the muffled voices inside get louder, sounding  like caterwaul
.
a time arrives
in each day
each moment
to locate the night..

discover in day
one brief suggestion
of night
one glimpse of sorrow
a sliver of moon
in bright daylight..

this is enough
energy and courage
to find the night
sustaining the day
and the day
the night..

in each moment
we discover a cry
of pain
of joy...
image @ polarityinplay.blogspot.com
Endless icy expanse, inspires a wordless wisdom,
Himalayan peaks, silent echoes of deep meditation.
**A cold wind incessantly hums primeval "Om"
Inside, a formless flower blooms, nectar overflows!
A close encounter with the grand Himalayan landscape is a transforming experience
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