There is a luxurious lair of lies
Lovingly tended and layered with blanket truths;
A soft-bedding of sumptuous sycophancy
Tucked in too neatly with a pat on the bottom
delivered by hand.

Delusion drips from wet lips and silken tongues and
Lips smack with self-satisfaction and serial smugness.
Syrupy sentiments mist the eyes and blur the vision.
Charity is cold and cynical here with oily patronage to grease the wheels.
Fresh facts freeze outside the glowing house of harpy half - truths
as self- advancement holds the floor.
You need to wear a cloak to enter and hold it tight against you
You need to study the players
You need to act.

I awake to the sound of singing birds;
Little birds, singing their own tiny repertoire
And their singing
Lifts my soul.
It is a small joy
But so accessible
As long as there is spring and morning.

The sun's rays reach the blind and are
Diffused.
They touch me like a golden glow
Which oozes over me
Like warm honey.

An individual bird chatters his business,
Plump and important,
Feathers fluffed,
Oblivious of the Twitter of the rest
Intent on his purpose.

And this is what this chorus is:
No chorus,
No harmony;
Just each bird singing his own tune.
No blending, no merging, no smearing, no trimming
But sharp, clear differences.

A tree stands outside the window.
Its apple green leaves in their new- born state,
Each separate on the branch,
Not yet grown into the overlapping cover they will become.
Between
Each leaf
And the next
And surrounding the whole
Is the china blue sky.
Each colour
Young
And
Clear
And
Complementing the other.

Only today-
Only now
Will those leaves look
So
Against that sky.
Tomorrow a cloud may dull the sky'
The sun may be brighter,
The leaves will have grown,
The branch will stoop a little more.

The beauty is in the transience:
That tree
That sky
That sun
That bird
That song
Now.

Two strangers in a rickshaw in Varanasi:
Two strangers who never felt like strangers.
Two people lost and alive in the moment,
The same moment
With every sense standing, antennae bristling..

Two in a bubble
Together, held apart.

Caught up in a parade and surrounded by shy , smiling faces
Waving modestly at the fair haired strangers,
Laughing
At their surprise and joy.
Knowing that moment's awe
Delighted to share the festival.

Rickety trucks gaudily decorated blare out the tinny music and
High pitched voices distorted by the tannoy add an urgency
To the motion.

Shimmering saris glisten,
So in tune with the  music that trembles with joy.
That joy spills out from the
Scents, the colours, the gleaming grins and the shy waving that marks our welcome,
Till every sense tingles
With life.


And then the sand storm
Swirling and circling the speeding rickshaw
Arrived mysteriously, magically,
Like dry ice in a theatre.

The air now tangible;
Surrounding us like the skin of a bubble
Lifting us out
Of ourselves as the scene comes and goes.

The sand screen clears to reveal
An elephant
A beautiful, smiling elephant
Dressed in splendour
Accompanying us on our magic carpet ride.
Close enough for us to touch his hide.

Bejewelled and glorious
Smiling too
And all is one in that moment
And each looks at the other and feels enchanted and wants the parade to go on forever
Just like this;
With motion
And music
And colour
And smiles
And laughter
And
An elephant.

I landed here
Alone
Deposited.

Instinctively
I searched for friendly faces
Guides and teachers
To show me who I was
And where to go.

This body, face and family
Was not me.
My clothes, my voice, my knowledge
Was not me.

I needed help
I was a human and had human need:
Hope,heart and humour were a start.

I landed first on Mars and sought protection from a mighty arm
But arms that hug can hold too tightly and too long.

So up to Jupiter I looked
'Oh father Sky God, keep me safe!'
But, 'Oh by Jove!' The auspices that came as doves
Brought thunder too
And frightened me.

To Uranus  I fled, and fled again as he detested me
And meant me harm.

The weekend beckons; Saturn's next, the Golden Age of Man
Feast and plenty
Five and  twenty.

But no! Move on. The moon awaits
And love and lust and Soma from the gods-
But werewolves howl and madness lurks.

Neptune swims by and draws me in
To nuptials
And I float awhile upon the tide,
Losing myself in another.

Pluto gives me wealth
But rules the underworld
Where wealth can take you
If you bide its rules.

A young man next, so fare of face,an orator,
A man of letters: Mercury, quick silver
Changing with the wind.
A messenger, a vessel merely
He steals and is the God of thieves.
A thief who tends the dying.
Nothing is his or of him; he takes and smiles and moves then moves on.

And then to Mother Earth,
The Titan, Gaia.

And what is earth?
The dirt beneath my feet from which I look up
To the heavens.

My feet are black and bruised
My eyes are open
My toes can feel the grit
I feel the air upon my face.

This now is me.