I know there will come a time where the only moisture will run out, and the ground will crack and crumble

And we will have to leave from this eternal drought- in this land many have called home

In two or two-hundred years- would we still have the one thing to nourish our bodies and repair the crusted soil?

Watching through the pane
Your hands as cuffs
As you unveil the earth
Tending what you sow
The Night Before last
Under the blood moon
It was that night
Where we spoke and
Planted seeds of old ideals
We would be as the land
Nurturing one another
As we both worked
To bring callused hands
Gripping the fruits
Of our labor
To our humble
Farm house table
These days would be long
Out in ribbons of gold
And slight scent of country roses
Would be our remuneration
These are our seeds
That we both planted
That we will water
That we will grow
Soon my love
As they are ready
We will pick each
Dream and live

It doesn't matter how so plain
Or rough the crust may be,
The kernel is what truly counts --
The part we cannot see.

A piece of land perceived as good
And ripe for human toil
May yet prove unproductive
Without the proper soil.

Can we appraise the saber
While still within its sheath,
Or comprehend the ocean
Unless we look beneath?

Sights we often fail to see
And thoughtlessly pass by
May be those that satisfy
The palate, not the eye.

Among the mountains and oceans we claimed,
Environments we no longer know,
Starvation from the knowledge lacked.
Strange men of unknown origin push us away
With feathered spears and their spirits
Flying above us like the angels we seek.

The spread of our culture like margarine
Angers the earth it's ancestors tread on;
War and thievery. Disease and infection
Was wildfire in a land containing no such
Immunities to the harshness.

First cities died as infants, stillborns
Of history and freedom, yet
They survived in their determination.

This land, where we can roam free
Boundaries have been set up
Mapped by the pen of a cartographer
Continents drifted apart, tectonic shifts
Ripping across the land mass
The mightiest of mountains turned to rubble
Giving rise to new landmarks
The fury spewing fire, the molten lava
Created fissures along the ground
Rivers of fire flowing across the veins of Earth
Resentment of nature marched to new frontiers
Earth transformed itself, to a new avatar
New landscapes and greenery adorned it
In the coronation ceremony of the usurper
Commandeering life - forms to a new future
We are living that dream for centuries
Without an inkling of the next rebellion**



















© Amitav (Radiance)

The universal therapy
a common, household medicine
crafted by collaborations of talents
and celebrated by siblings far
in distance, near in heart and mind.

If ever a religion existed
which all would embrace,
a movement to seize the fires
and conjoin hands
to spread and span,

If winds had a literal way to speak
to our simple minds,
if anything could drown us faster
than the rising expanse
of miles upon oceans
and make irrelevant
the laws of land, gravity and life...