On the riveting tiger skin,
intricate tantric motifs
nature has deftly sewn,
indicative of the mystery
of communion predicted
by the stars, the fish in
intergalactic oceans
that dream beyond time,

her lush, **** body spreads
in anticipation of the union
foretold,in palm leaf scrolls of yore
the ancients wrote, as revealed to them,
defying all human logic.

Shiva, merges with Shakthi
Lingam, the ******* plough of creation
seeks Yoni, the fertile awakened
feminine soil that awaits sowing.
The churning of the milky sea begins
in excited, repitative,  motions
till nectar secretes, bringing sublimation.

Then begins transformation,
she becomes the devine lust
of the universe, the receiver of pollen,
to create, proliferate, sustain and spread,
the circle of mystery widens every moment.

The tiger skin on which she lies
before him assumes its grand version now,
it's the sky, without a beginning or end,
she now is the drawing  of the universe
reduced to  the symbolism of female body,
a pure white piece of cloud, taken by wild wind
above hills, dales, that in course of circumnavigation
gets pregnant, then, rains in torrents over the earth.

the union, an energy in waves, spreads
creating fertile imagination, in all beings
earth in green pulsates, with the  universe,
the rhapsody resulted is in all colors.

In the inner labyrinths
when I  walk alone
a gazing benevolent  eye, I see,
the helix nebula of my origin
watching me, intently
beloved star, once a dazzling sun,
you refuse to go quietly
in to the night's ferocity
mother dear, in your core
undying love still burns
singing my favorite old lullaby.

I was infinity itself, as my father, in a poem he lovingly created,
wanted me to be figured, made me descend from a dream he had.
My mom, most fondly held this form, close to her heart
the epitome of her love for her man and the bloom in her womb
she gifted it, and they both together in a love boat, brought me home,
she held me closer to her *****, so warm I was even in coldest
of nights, yet another poem it indeed was, love set it's  tune.

        In a cloud of stardust I was, yearning to see far off stars dance,
through million years, I swirled, twisted, turned,found love in the end,
love brings perfection, my journey assumed  many many themes
love transformed a speck of dust; found a shiny little diamond.

The incessant march of time, is marked by the music of seasons,
wind blows, clouds race, rain in torrents fall, flowers bloom,
when I invariably return to see that perennial bloom on your lips,
time stands still, how we love this space beyond the reach of time!

Tall avenue trees, so lush, standing either side of the road,
heads bend inwards playfully, to touch foreheads together,
were  in a blooming contest, a riot of colors wherever one turns,
no wonder, remember, this is Bangalore, the city of countless gardens.

The noon sun eager to  join  the mirth, is generous with light,splash
over the flowers of many hues, violet, red, butter white, yellow,
and the many shades of green of the thick crown foliage make,
with a rare delight, never displayed, in any other time of the day.

A midday lull pervades, very few people on the street,he was
relishing the mood, smiling to himself,but the lone girl, full of cheer
walking towards him, decided to respond, with equal fervor,
just then, a sudden wild wind shook the trees, as if it was pre -arranged
causing a shower of pollen,drenching her all over, she stood stunned,
in response he ran forward, hoping to rid her of the profusion of pollen,
what  at that moment she needed was a hug; he gave it to her quick,
they stood looking eye to eye, certain dreams happen in broad day light
even forgetting that one is awake;before they realized they became
day light robbers, robbing each other's heart, in an idyllic moment,

Aum..Omm
the wind booms,
the holy chant
kept awakened
my inner power grid.

The invisible fingers of wind
play sensually
on the salacious forms
sand readily assumes.

Inside the pyramid
I built brick by brick
with my love for you,
hope and anticipation,
silence stood frozen;
ages rained over it.

I was oblivious of
anything other than love,
kept waiting for you there
in my anthill beyond time.

time immesurable passed
like waves after waves
beating on the sandy shores,
numbers are just the creation
of mind's illusions like time and space,
but love I believed would fight back
the vagaries of human transience.

and at last I see
a turtle swim above white form
of an imagined ocean, my love
I see you swimming along
a mysterious apparition.
the moment has come
to redeem me from this bind.

It's like coming up from
the depth of blue waters
escaping a death by drowning.
Seeing your smile  was like
an assurance for a place in the sun, all over again
but I stood stunned as you walked past in silence.

And when I chased, you dissolved like a mirage,
the shadow alone was left on the sands, a coiled serpent skin!

after a trek that felt like a lifetime, I found you again,
there , at my favorite oasis; but it wasn't you
I knew from the first sight.  
                                               On my lips you kissed
one last time, for the sake of love that kept us wait in vein
in words dripping pain you whispered in to my ears:
"This  isn't real my love, you are day dreaming,
forget me the flower bloomed in mirage, go back to depth,
stop vainly flitting in transience, only one way we can unite
eternity waits for us , it's not this shadow of love, but real"

Sitting cross legged on earth, in the wilderness alone quiet,
I meditate,on the single sprawling tree, in her poetic best,
verdant and robust, I wouldn't fail to see how ceaselessly
she did strive, in  reinventing herself moment after moment.

A bird, dedicating her song to the evening's evanescence,sings on,
like nothing else ever matters to her, even after it's end,
as she has known her inner-self better, by making her songs
more relevant, each time  than before,and than the songs of others,
without any reason particular, more by a compulsion mysterious.

While delving in to the depth of that compulsion, Marianne Moore,
I feel present in my mind, she is the tree fighting the creative battle,
not to  dislike her own creation,the bird with persistent compulsion.