S(he) woke up one day,
Saw the world in a strange way,
Proclaimed - I AM POET !

Troubled waters rise—
Sands march, locust lost in maize,
Harvest moon sinking.

Harvest comes late now  .  .  .
Cutting the crops soon in ground,
  .  .  .  Sickle moon in sun.

Sweeten, let’s, a coast of dun
Therefrom which, the tides erode,
A castle to blind the mighty sun
Affront to that Poseidon, and others
On the beach.
***** the walls and battlements
Fair crystal arm the turrets
The audience of the hermit *****
Pay silent homage to the throne
Intricate are its libraries, etched
Our history inside the tomes.
Only grains of perfect stock
From which antiquity, in full credit,
Will revere the lot
And poetry of human might
Shaped and forged to kiss the day of light
Only  that may suffice.
In this endeavor, no ancients will tenet
Its salty beams but the children of the morn
For we shall build the universe
From when progenitors are born.

Before it began, we were dismayed
Our future, castle, by waves waylaid
Aspirations sink, now, from shape.
But, Gods, I curse you!
Let my destiny rise free!
Look now before you:
A stone in ocean of mediocrity!
All these that build up forts
Lack in that spirit to fight, retort
**** you, **** you, waters of my doubt
Turn false the shades of realism
Which I thought it all about
**** you, **** you sands of time
For now all that founds my dreams
Is erosion of the shoreline sand.

I am your power
Unconquerable,
Inquentiable,
A moving lust
Taking over an inexhaustible dream.

I will be the last thing on your mind,
I will control every thought,
I am your desire.

But in the end I promise I will leave.
Your hubris is too much,
I could never stand against it.

You were my power
But now I am miles away.

I will never stop running from you.

Fabric of tomorrow  .  .  .
We are rapt in golden age,
  .  .  .  Tapestry is fraying.

Your eyes are lightning—
piercing, penetrating—
stunning.
with a gaze,
You turn me,
a mere mortal,
into stone.
Your presence is—
electrifying.

Your hair is brazen,
Your skin is gold.
Your body sacred oak.
the grace of a swan,
the heart of a lion,
the eyes of an eagle,
the mind of God—
is all Yours.

the sun has half Your warmth,
the sky a quarter of Your greatness,
and the stars an eighth of Your brilliance.

a huff of Your breath
could blow all the birds from the sky.
a flick of Your finger
could crush all the earth's mountains.
a crack of Your voice—
like thunder—
could make all men fall to their knees.

the world gravitates on Your inhalation
and shies away on Your exhale.
all of nature sings of Your glory,
for around You,
everything revolves.

on my chariot
riding on a bridge of brass,
torches in the air—
in imitation of Your celestial glory—
i wonder
if there be a place for me
on mount olympus—
by Your side.