I always say it: the eclipse is only about who occults whom
How does it become my opinion, a tonal bane, an as if
I could have stopped the collusion of the planets
Or I could colour the shadows green or crimson, if you wish,
But I do not control the cosmic moods; I don't even know when to say hello
I'm not clumsy, I have avoided death, and I have lived in the lap
Of uncontrolled waves, sometimes they die before I step forward
Sometimes after I try to spell her name in a language that I have learned
This was when my tongue curled as a poppy pod seeking drops of dew
When the moments for another journey arrived on the unwilling rickety bus
Early in the morning before the swaying bells lost their regularity
Before life could decide to sleep or fold the hands in a prayer
But that was only my imagination; the suggestions were
In the buzzing bees, or in the eyes that never let the moon out of sight
Shapes change in water, and also in the sky, depending on where
You look first. The dust on the solitary road to my village
Was deciding how we live our lives. It was a dictate, the only, opinion
That mattered. No matter how much importance I gave to my words.
Sometimes, I thought the strewn pearls were from a stanza of a poem
I hoped to write but got preoccupied by your eyes, living your dreams
I can't even tell you how beautiful they were because you may ask again
And I will be clobbered by my memories of what I may have said.
On an unintended day, you asked me the names of all the flowers I liked
I could tell you none because there were too many shades on your lips
I always got lost on straight roads, on the same bus that stopped only once
I forgot if this is where I wanted to be, where I wished to go remains buried
Too deep in the mind, lost its moorings because the way you had once looked at me
I remember you had once held my hand and said, there is nothing wrong in living
Blind, because we are all lost in our own ways, but having said that
You got distracted. I did not know that a cloud hold more than tears  
You let the evening lead you away, soothing it was. The wine was slow but sure
I watched the sunset without glimmers from any ghost, I had nothing to offer
My words sank into the sea, and swam like fishes over the reef
Before they too were orphans looking at the windmills on tranquilized waters  
I walked the shore clutching my thoughts like condiments from the east
Who possesses or profits by a long voyage through the inclement seasons?  
Spring could be one of them; as you smile away your absence
I clutch a bundle of hay, looking for some twigs, for the last winter day
The rain douses all fire fuelled by breathing meant only for life as I had
Sorrow is not about being sad, it is the infinity between us, a sedgy way