Under the spell of the milky way's surge
an illusion  past a zillion  light years,
among a million things dull and bright
flashing messages like crazy fireflies,
all the time demanding my attention,
how did, just you became my cynosure?
As I sit amazed like a kid on an ocean shore
foolishly start to analyze, without knowing
how to go about it, except dreaming  in poetry,
my eyes catch the same  galaxy in my veins
in your eyes churn, to catch the essence of this spell.
And I realize : you too are like me,  puzzled
about this magical conspiracy of stellar configuarations
that make the star dust within us attract each other.

Darkness in waves, he finds in this ocean,
All round his world, even at high noon.
While seeking light in that dark continent,
In her eyes, a surprise; he encounters sun!

A succulent fruit, I desire, yet strange,  never wish to eat,
my love, you've  ever been, breathtakingly bewitching!
How couldn't I wake  up to this truth sooner, I wonder,
being too aware, perhaps that this heart has no replacement.

The only ship in the angle of my vision
seems to be still, as if cleverly painted above
the placid waves, that reject all agitations
near the shore I stand, a conspiracy perhaps!

No way I can tell if the ship moves away
or impatiently steers towards the port's embrace;
perhaps  in keeping my spirit to espouse ambiguity.

Just a morning jogger from a planet far,
I am nobody to judge, still I am curious-
that vessel with an  uncertain, navigational plan,
Isn't it me?Am I reaching anywhere, tell me.

I can see, none seems to expect it to come in
or go away and hide itself as a dot in distant horizon,
none who did bid it farewell, too is not to be seen.
Where have all gone, leaving no clue behind,
making it difficult for  one to create dreams.
How  so quickly time did erase all evidences,
which rendered goings and comings insignificant!

Is that static state, an illusion, a metaphor for life?
None is here to answer such questions as the world
has gone too far from there, to a space uncertain.

The port is busy as usual, any day it could be.
I wait for something to happen, will the ship
come to life astonishing me and move again?
I listen, the wind that blows from far horizon,
tells salty tales, tries in vain, again and again,
to recite the fish songs from deep sea blue down.

An age old chair, in seasoned teak wood
carved, a perfect work of art, nothing less than
a masterpiece, and a  reminder of so much past,
sat regally before our wondering eyes, tempting
on the central court yard of my  ancestral home,
where generations lived.
                               Wanting to sit like my grandpas of yore
I found a carpenter, perhaps the last one for this work
who understands the air that surrounds the chair.
We discussed the concept,
design and the kind of wood
it has to be  made,to create a replica
to bring back the grandeur of times past.
But then, found  not an easy task  it is
"Do you deserve it ?" the bearded
carpenter, was so blunt in his skeptic stance!
He  puzzled me  with his questions
Yet we were keen to give it a try.

The adamant carpenter relented
after many sessions of questions
and answers, perhaps my passion
did the trick, his eyes made me believe.
He promised to make me a chair
(The kind none would dream in this age)
as if it's a mission divinely assigned,
"You need to change a lot to deserve it"
he insisted, suggests a series of
purification rights  "for your confused soul"

"To fit  in to a chair like this , fulfill
all it's  demands"in my ear he whispered
as if I am the chosen one for an ancient  throne.

An  antique chair shaped by the imagination
of my distant ancestors, now changes me
and without slightest  resistance I submit;
would I ever know what is happening?

pink pepper berries,
invite to pluck and partake;
at one's peril of course.

I thought I've seen the light, all of us assiduously seek,
though in a flash,for only an ethereal moment perhaps.
I yearned to catch that gleam in my wavering words,
so that I can keep it in your lovely eyes  where it belongs,
wasn't I right, in thinking so, only your eyes can tell me now.
I eagerly peer in to those dark eyes when you read my verse,
the magic happens ,my being beats in unison with that light, dissolves