They say you can’t swim in the same river twice
For every ripple has a new story to say
Are waves, then, a flowing ribbon of moments
that binds our tomorrow to yesterday ?
They say let go of what you love
If it’s true, it will come back to you
But the robin whose broken wing I mended
Flew away forever into oblivious blue
They say life gives you what you’re worth
Not an inch less, never an inch more
But I got more than what I deserved
Every time you walked with me on our shore
They say do not try to imprison light
Float a lamp on the waters, let it go
But will its golden glow remain with me
One day when I’m alone; I do not know
Their meetings are sculpted realities
Revelries in extraterrestrial celebrations
Rippling through cosmic wrist-watches
Tilling fields of lush fourth dimensions
This is where they weave intimacy
Without physicality of touch, sight or voice
Space-time wraps of reciprocal dreams
Riveting flicker-swift images of mutual choice
Perhaps logic would deny this reality
Dismiss them tourists in a passionate space
while orgasms of bliss count rosary beads
In flaming surges of their metaphysical embrace
They ran barefoot, hand in hand
One rainy night, fighting a ruthless storm
They were but an idea, neither shape nor form
She carried his lamp light like a wand
high above her head, grasping tight his hand
He tucked under his shirt, shielded from the rain
beautifully written lyrics with tear-drops of pain
precious testimony of their bond, dockets of their mystical birth
Stained with the rising aroma of another forgotten earth
Winds screamed in a deafening din
Commands and scriptures of virtue and sin
But they never let go, they ran on
Skipping over thistles, a doe and her fawn
Rowing a raft made of coconut palm
flying masts of twin souls, pure and light as feather,
They paddled gray oceans across the inky night
Destined to cross courtyards of eternity together
When at long last at the touch of dawn
Condensed in dewdrops, their thoughts touched shore,
their muddy footprints hurriedly ran
As they had done a million times before
to the soft mattress of their pleasured meadow
Touch for touch; feel for feel, exchanged gifts of pleasure,
as the sun dappled guitars , and light played with shadow
He clasped a necklace of glistening kisses on her soft skin
A whisper inhaled, a glance whispered
As she sheathed his jeweled sword, and took him in
All the while, they never forgot
that their innate longing to merge
was but the passport to a decisive union,
strumming in twangy strings of a sleepless surge
T’was something larger than they would ever know
A lovely butterfly that flew in visions of colors
That fluttered on wings and kissed the flowers
Was just an outer manifestation; a yearning sweet and bizarre
Of the caterpillar of an inexplicable deeper desire
You were born today,
Today, you are born again
Painting a finite
that defines infinity
From seed to tree,
tree to fruit,
Fruit to seed,
and seed to tree again.
Bathed in April showers , opened petals
Born to operate on instinct, maybe motion.
For whom the self is a whim of discovery
You, who, count wishes on shooting stars
And feel the need to be deflowered
To be stripped and chaffed off old skin
So that you can be born again,
Every day, every moment.
You, who never looked back
But left a trail of fallen petals
I hear your whispers of pain and joy
Remember, I am always with you
In the empty seat, next to you
In our journey all through
You who were born today
Today , you are born again.
A world without borders or lines,
presented in the form of
..The Shapeless One:
the role connecting all of
her other held-ones.
Self-proclaimed ..to be called Muse.
She friendly, motherly,
holds a canister, acting as home
to a potion -- an energetic brew --
a recipe for another universe.
Blotched on the glass: galaxies,
dotted with bursting white stars.
& the art
reflected this jar,
but through ink, instead,
still aglow: capturing
every flutter from
each bottled firefly.
A piece of fruit not falling far from its source.
Akin, almost cousin, yet not quite ..no:
Something more, presented in this shapeless form,
whispering in his ear, as he sleeps,
inspiring his actions & dreams,
telling him to fight wiser than Achilles,
to fly smarter than Icarus...
This is how an entity, such as this:
a being similar to a goddess..
communicates with her extended child ..an artist,
whom writes with a stick of dynamite, a sword named The Pen.
An artist.. a harvester, yet subtle in style.
Here on Earth he wars with charcoal,
& whites out with nova lights.
Here on Earth, his name is Mars.