You folded me with your beautiful hands
into a tiny little paper boat.
You watched me sail on life’s little streams
and taught me how to stay afloat.

You fixed me with a piece of tape or a blob of glue,
manufactured in the mills of your mind.
After the angry river and its harsh rapids
had made me the victim of their hardest grind.

You helped me flow into the sea of dreams,
and made sure the waves harboured me.
When night fell and my path went astray,
you were the pole star, so bright and pretty.
              
                            *.     *.      *
You were the ultimate lighthouse of love.
YOU were the most charming and adorable person
to grace my memory.

He gazed at the sky in its entire wrath
and at the sea churning below.
The stars nestled above life’s fury
were too far away to shine upon his brow.
If he flew through the tempest of dreams,
his wings might tear and end his flight
And if he dived into the fathomless deep,
He might be devoured by the eternal night.
A thousand voices had whispered
that there was naught in the unknown.
But the world that he was familiar with,
didn’t feel like his own.
He was swept away like a mote of dust,
by the mighty brooms of fate.
And on he flew like a dainty dandelion,
shedding his hopelessness, fear and hate.
Both the storm and his starlit soul
wrestled for endurance...for survival,
The storm died, the soul survived
and he rejoiced at the suns arrival.
The wind had hit him incessantly,
Fragmenting all his weaknesses.
All he was after toil and turmoil,
was a beautiful, hard rock without any recesses.
Long after, lying on the last isle,
like a statue sculpted out of stone,
He was glad that it was him, not the others,
that had received a battering from the unknown.

Alas! The trees haven’t moved.
The earth still binds them with the cordial chains of time.
Alas! The trees haven’t moved.
They still stand motionless - majestic and sublime.

The sentinels of their own life and fate,
only their manacled heart-beat neither yours nor mine,
they do not feel the frost and pain -
it’s numbed by the coolness of the worlds colourless wine.

When the silence screams from places unknown,
they silence it with wicked song and rhyme,
filled with lust for natures aid
and Filled with lust for a more peaceful time...

Though their crown succumbs to axe and blade
and their life fades from green to grey,
Their throne, their roots will stay undisturbed
and bear a courageous kingling another day.

Be glad! The trees haven’t moved.
For then our life will be a ocean full of danger.
Their peaceful wrath, waking from slumber,
will drown us and allow no well-known stranger.

But also feel unfortunate!
Because they will walk when we stand still
In the cabinets of memory.
They will walk when our footprints
are washed away by rain and sea.

Fire. The devourer. The dictator.
Earth. The cosmic carpet. The shapeshifter.
Water. The liquid of many guises. The Unyielding.
Air. The neighbor. The stranger. The infiltrator.
Space. The habitat of substance.  The Ultimate void.
And then poetry, the masterpiece of Thought.
The Great Imitator.

There was earth on the Earth
and salt in the sea.
There was a bird
serenading in front of a tree.
(A tiny speck of something...nothing)
There were well-spun clouds
and mountains of stone
and then there was the wind
that flew with a moan.
(It grows...there’s darkness)
There was an army scuttling
into terrestrial mounds;
And the crescent moon
on its daily rounds
(It’s living...there’s darkness)
There were horses galloping
and the ground thundering,
There was the sloth
sitting and wondering.
(It’s moving...There’s light!)
There was the river trickling
and the geysers spewing,
there were the monkeys bickering
and the cows mooing
(And then there was me!
The least important being there could be)

Death will see me one day,
though I see it not.
Amidst the strife or passion,
death will have me caught.

The graves will grow ancient,
the flint will kindle anew,
and though I struggle to endure,
death won't stop to rue.

      ____

When darkness has entombed me,
hark! let no one mourn,
for I was meant to go heart, not soul,
into the unknown.

Fabricate    the world,
tile                     by tile,
Until the towers sway.

     Overlook the foundations,
     in your                     frenzy;
     cement them another day.
      
           Let the buildings descend;
           frightened            humans,
           their lives        in jeopardy

                They felt         invincible,
                now are            vulnerable-
                their lives have become tardy.

                               *        *       *
                 the bird soars high above
                 the streets are         empty
                 its screeches                 for
                 we are no                   more