He created a night for him
with the dark metaphors
his poetry tossed on to the air;
from its ember buried under ashes
oozed little by little,
two drops of scared light.
Alone, in the cocoon of the memory
of her words, he distilled and drained
the magic potion of poetic expression.
In it was ingested, the intensity
of sudden lightening
that burns down everything
in to ashes
like the tides that occur high and low
what if ,at will, single source secretes
both poison and nectar?
with your eyes mutely speaking of desire
you are deft in signalling both---
the ascent of love, that creates in me
the instant capillary rise of passion
and
love's descend, as if the monsoon has dissipated
and just a sprinkling announcing rejection!
who are you, reveal your true face
poetic trance at the moment of my inspiration
or dark poetry, gushing out on it's own
from a secret spring, deeply hidden?