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Puspangana Singh Mar 2016
Between you and me
I will tell you my secret,
I will let you have too
The share of your albatross;
You will have no regrets:
Everything will be
Between you and me.

Do you still remember
How heavenly our rendezvous was?
So serene, surreal and surreptitious;
The shiny moonbeams dancing on your face,
And oh, when they revealed thine eyes,
Their light was more blinding than a midnight sun:
There were a thousand suns in that night,
In that vaulted Universe
Between you and me.

Do the nymphs still visit you
Like they had from the nadir,
In the middle of our flowery bower?
They still chant to you, don't they,
The evangelical eloquence, straight from the Mosai.
And you were Apollo incarnated;
The multitudinous notes ricocheting through every precipice,
In that dark valley of sanguine souls
Between you and me.

Do the sweet breezes still fan your cheeks
As they had on that windless twilit night?
Not a leaf had rustled,
Time had stilled, and so movement:
I could breathe in and feel the air
There was thunder, and lightening
In that still, serene, surreal haunt of stars:
Everything was seething in a soothing turmoil
Between you and me.

Do you remember? Did you feel and behold
The beginning of our world?
It had begun.....

Now you are sleeping under the twilit sky,
The shiny moonbeams dancing on your face;
Now time is stilled:
The seething turmoil is not soothing;
In your dreams, do you see what has passed
Between you and me?

My dreams are crimson:
I cannot lose them with you;
I want to lose them with you;
I must not lose them with you.
Now that you sleep, you
Keep watch over me:
You haunt me; I am
Flooded in my own deluge.
Oh! But the world;
Now you are not here
Who will glorify
Who will sanctify
The infinite infinity
Between you and me?
Puspangana Singh Jan 2016
Anxiously anxious anxiety, listen to Me;
Listen to my neurons humming you as the song,
Listen to my thoughts pleading to you their independence;
Listen to Me, as I create this lyrics of dolour for you
O anxiously anxious anxiety.

Anxiously anxious anxiety, read the book of Me;
Read the story weaved around you,
Read the epic from prologue to epilogue,
And read to me what is to be scribed next.

Anxiously anxious anxiety, hear the tunes of Me,
Hear the tunes of the Rag out of Me,
Hear the beats dying out of Me,
Tuneless, storyless, songless.
Puspangana Singh Jan 2016
Things old and young,
All were things to be
All are things to be.
If they were never meant
To be in the future
How would have they been the past,
And the present, and again the future.
Is the future an undecided mess?
Is the future an organized disarray?
Is the future another special dimension?
The equation of future still unsolved,
The strings of future still dangling from unthought processes.
How can we be so certain, yet uncertain about the Future?
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