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Mute jungle spells end  .  .  .
Death is written in the sands,
  .  .  .  Pause of Jaguar.
Dear poets, 
Update on love?
"It is up to date!"
He is on ventilator
I am at the window
He is in hospital
Close to the grave
I am in hostel
Close to the college
I am opening book
He is closing bible
He is breathing out
I am breathing in
His ventilator is shut
My window is opened
He is eighty
I am eighteen
He is diseased
I am besieged
He lost ground
I am gaining ground
He is my grandfather
Who led a grand life
I am his grandson
Left to lead a branded life
I am,
I was & will be 
In tense
Without you
I am a poor poet
in search of rich thoughts
As the murk
in the daedal
sky endured
and the
finespun
brume upon
the headland
peaks wound
all around
in a
helicoid
shape,

the fluttering
winds carried
aloft
a bouquet
of ions
that were
immured,
but still
danced about
in an undulating
figure of eight;

and when the
distent distant
cloud could
no longer
wait,
it's rain
fell upon
my
wilted form
so desolate.
January 9, 2014
When mom was dying,
she felt like everything
she'd worked for
was gone.

She showed me Life
as Its steward
and Death
as Life's reward.

How to lean into
the unknowable
whether I want to
or not.

That our deeds,
carved meticulously into
the bedrock of Forever,
are immortal.

It becomes clearer
that our work
is not for us,
but for It.

This life
is service;
only what we give
is truly ours.
Written on the 10th anniversary of my mother's death - December 2, 2014.
My first flight was a fancy funny dream cream delight,
Of crafty wings swinging in thriftyjwinds of daylight,
Propelled by pilots cocooned in the cozy cockpit,
For a grand take off, of the roaring and rising craft.

I was spotted and seated by a dainty bounty beauty,
Beckoning me to buckle up for reckoning safety,
With slippery smiles from her clipping rosy lips,
After brisk demo for self -help on risk rescue tips.

Skiing wings nosed up plush and puffy heights,
And up and up I went and gazed through vent,
As basking clouds shone in tender light and heat,
Flight floated on velvet carpet glowing silver white.

The sailing swan in sky moved in majestic style,
Eased and caused nagging nap of lull and pull,
Her long and lavish belly hosting high fly guests,
Rays and rain gifted a colorful bow to the far west.

The queen in quest lensed on landing scene of the city,
Focused on the crown of castles of unseen beauty,
Trespassed vibrant greenery and scenery, hills and hillocks,
Rivers and rivulets, flora and fauna in all mix and make,

The mettle of men and machine did its marvel in travel,
As the veiled wheels unveiled and wielded to safe land,
The metal bird grounded on a grand ground around,
And rejoiced rousing reception of the curious crowd.
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