The Holy Conch cries.
Camphor burns,
leaves a fine taste -
of vermilion and sandalwood paste.
Sharp echoes from temple bells
empty my brain -
invoke divine flashes.
And Light enters my heart;
Noble, virtuous Light.
When I look into Your Eyes.

broken notes
shiver in shame,
for once they sprung
gloriously, young,
too hard to match.
red winey textures
now black in dust,
run in short,
panting breaths.

i've run too far,
too far from home;
now, i have no song.

Bye, don't go.
I know
how much
you've been meaning
to ask me to Stay.
Away.
But I would Stray
too much.
Forsake
my heart, my world -
as I would lay Awake
in the dark of the night,
to hear you Say,
"Hello!"