A corpse buried six feet deep under the earth,speaks
peacefully to the night that extends to galaxies
that cyclically take birth and embrace death.
A night owl sits like a rock cut figure, it's ears
opened to the heart beats of sleeping silence,
finds out the secret that lie beyond life and death,
immaterial to the beings that mastered the art
of hitching a ride on the wings of  transcendence.

A trek to the golden peak,
of clarity of every kind,
she had taken up earnestly
as her singular mission all along.
Near  the  upper reaches,
at the difficult terrain,
without any admonition,
an avalanche.
Her ego, frozen and hardened,
rushed towards her,
blocked further progress,
for ever,
like a wall of resistance.
She tried her best
to venture forward,
but she had lost the path
completely by then
and didn't know which way to turn.

So frail she is, aged too,
but what I see every time
is a frozen leaf resisting
falling snow and whistling gale.

The grace she exudes grips
every time she passes me
in the morning or evening
her smile electrifies me without fail

In my bones it echoes, I felt
each smile brings instant delight,
I feel like it spreads in to my being
unlike the hollow smiles thrown at you.

What remains after one is gone
is to be felt much later by others
but to make the hollow deeply felt
in absence, their gifts in mind should persist.

what makes that huge difference,
now I grasp, her heart that has seen
many seasons, of human predicaments
and beaten in resonance.instantaneously
strikes a chord, with all, it's music to ears.

And it's a moment none would easily forget
she reflects the timeless grace humans acquire
through a life lived fully in mindfulness
I am embraced by grace, when her smile is gifted.

What remains when she has gone
is a serene sense of fulfillment, for having met
a luminous being, who without even a word
or touch, could make others feel nice and be better.

Predatory hate  patted her face
and said"You are a nice morsel for
any beast of pray,prowling in hunger,
in this campus, see them roam around,
in many enticing guises, to touch
the likes of you with a dangerous longing "
she heard the murmur in the wind
and sent it back as her  messenger,
"The moment you touched me, fiend
the pollen of love that did spread on your fingers
started to change you from inside,
you won't be able to hate any more,
take it as a gift, magic of love and  it's collective
though  a curse to debilitate, power of hate"

Her lubricious bikini has full of criss- crossing fancy strings,
the central idea indeed, seems to be not concealing any skin.
when you pull at any one,
the whole becomes undone,
can you blame if the focus of the action shifts to other things?

Against the thick black curtain on horizon
of  still, gigantic cumulus cloud formation
three flitting army helicopters deftly display
a shadow play on jolly life of dragonflies,
I am compelled to think, as I drive past this
along the road skirting  Bangalore garrison

He blindly pretends it is bliss
living in his favorite dream,
and try to believe there are no
consequences as dream has no limits.
But who knocks on the door in this hour?
reality seems to be in her limits of patience.