A freezing drop of water,
oozing from a distraught cloud,
(wanted to be a feather in the
cloud's dark watery wing
till it would in torrents rain
in as much distant a land possible
that thirsts,while  reeling under drought,)
forced out, slips in to the sultry air,
halfheartedly,
not even aware of
what it is really,
quickly becomes steam
in another minute,
now, fails to recognize itself,
subjected to an  identity crisis.
A story of self oblivious sacrifice,
that speaks of pain, unexpressed.

Water drop,let go everything,
Just meditate on the touch down,
an eternity in between passes in a flash,
the immeasurable complexity  of time!

Pollen on your lips,
a bee in search of it,
I usurp it, get more
than what I asked for.

ഈ തേനീച്ച കൊതിച്ചതിലേറെ

നിൻ ചുണ്ടിലെ   പരാഗം
തേടിയെത്തി തേനീച്ച ഞാൻ
കവർന്നതു ഞാൻ  നുകരവേ
കൊതിച്ചതിലെറെ ത്തന്നു നീ

Her loneliness wears maroon,
                 I am aware," to her yin, my yang,"
mine in deep purple echoes,
                the density that's her, in my presence.
On an island of her own, she sojourns,
                 where there is comfortable room for two.
A happy recluse she is, ruminating,
                 diving deeper in to the sea of consciousness.
What does it really mean?
                  we are wound around a "KOAN", working on it,
wouldn't stop to think,  I flow
                    with the insistent gravitas of the current,
Through her the dense silence speaks,
                     in voices clear,  heard within me.
all beyond words, and in a far more
                     subtle plane, than this existence.

She is a man,in the blood stream,
gushing within her veins.
He acts her woman, willingly,
and he likes it every bit.
Together they create by chance,
a tumultuous ****** history,
never before seen, perhaps.
This subversion remains a secret,
with a meaning, on which
they never ever bothered.
A mighty cyclone, she transforms
that uproots structures monumental
if she really wants to trample everything.
He is a prankster wind,that love
billowing saplings; ripe rice as well.
Hovering on air, over land and water,
tumbling together, exploring depths,
they create mysterious wind patterns,
that add to the folk lore and myth.

Long wintry nights I endured, in my eyes lie frozen,
like an orphaned dog I roamed, how many many, lives?
Sniffing at every thing, looking for love immortal,
at times tied down by the unrelenting chain of pain.


A spring in my heart remains still, that spoke unfazed,
of the flowers of the valley, blue mountains and chirpy birds,
that fly crossing limits to sunny lands away and far,
where dreams in many colors flower in mirthful hearts,


Love was an oasis at the far end of the desert,I reached at last after
meandering through desert tracks  lined on both sides with cactus
but the oasis I found was long deserted,the spring fully dried,
it turned out to be a mirage, created to trap me forever.


My soul was still a land of light where a wise bird kept on singing,
cheering  me to move on,  to reach the last and highest peak,
the wise speak about in meditative silence  day and night.
it was in sight, beyond the mind, mount Kailash of my dreams,


In the icy lake waters I dipped thrice, and took three circles around,
the morning mist cleared, like burnished gold the mount  gleamed,
my climb I started, those golden steps to fulfillment.

"You have no reason to be disappointed"
A disembodied voice, mysterious, gently  consoles,
After a  long walk, he reaches the hilltop, stands  wondering.
The sun in a hurry was slanting  down to the western sky,
Billowing dark rain clouds have changed the setting
of the usual sun set; darkness invites quick questions
spoken in the voice of thunder, promptly lightening
answers to each question, in a  serious clear voice.