the storm
in her deep
and unceasing kisses
will bruise
my soul
But,
they will
leave behind
scars
that will
linger in me
the its
taste of
sweetness
tenderness with
searing
passion
and sensuousness

In one dreadful winter night
I awoke and found the Truth
The self in me died
And the duality melt
To synchronize
To become
The  I.

Now I am the Absolute
The really Real
Earlier...
I was a 'being'
A myopic over-bent
A creature of false crisis
Of Hamletian dilemmas
Of Ramusian dualism
Caught up in the concentric circles

I was one....
Spirited into myriad forms
Of love and lust,
Of desire and appetite.
A pilgrim sojourning into the endless night
Purblind by the dazing mirages.

I lost my way
In the eternity of illusion
Materiality held me
Time bound me
At the dead-end of my experience
In the flash-back of my awareness
I delved into the I
And found myself in the Edenic Garden
Rejoicing in the celestial music.

Dark ,wet leaves part for my lantern. I hear
the hushed applause of rain on leaves,and
follow the welcome carpet of light unrolled
from the open door across the soft grass. Smoke
pours down from the chimney to embrace me.
Wet leaves cling to my shoes. Two rabbits
dance back and forth like happy children
and a face pale as the moon peers from
the door in greeting

Their togetherness had become an island,
surrounded by strange waters .She contributes
to its noise unendingly.He often makes grand,
defiant gestures withering away like luckless roots.

Only a ruthless need survives.Years
have turned dreams into plain consolations.
Even hope is a necessary drudgery.Fears
grow like parasites on their passions.

Yet a reluctance persists-- reluctance to expand,
the turbulence or claim of waters does not surprise,
some playful waves struggle to the sand,
watching them, they become unconcerned, as the skies

Should they be called happy? The question
sounds hollow.They have raised walls
around their beings, a happy captivity of the sun,
while their lives dance as dolls immaculate

When her husband glances at me;
I observe tiny highlights of speculation
glittering on the treacherous
surface of his intelligence.
My open smile defuses him.
He blast the ready pores of his suspicion,
of course her animation appeals
to other men: she's attractive,
high-spirited in conversation.
But my pleasure find
new edge to the tale of an axe
returned sharper than it was.

When she died,
I thought I'd just grow old
Shutting myself in the old house
alone,with memories and the mirror
that she had looked in one bright day
like gold in the miser's chest.

The birds fly away from  the evergreen pines
As I stir out of bed
And open the window to see
The mountains still asleep
Behind the thick veil of fog.

I fix the binoculars,
Adjust the lenses
Pierce through them
And lo, the mountains now seem awake:

They glide on the wide plains.
A hide-and seek goes on between us;
Till the start of the rain
When the vision melts,
Like the words of love
The time will wear slowly away.