nothing can exist
in which you are not,
my blue lord!
deep within those expressive blue eyes,
is a floating peacock feather.
even in koln’s cold full moon now,
i see a tinge of blue.
in all her panoramic photos
which showcase a cerulean blue,
i only see you...
everything animate or inanimate
you’re the Buddha
the science of the formless!
where there’s dharma, there’s Krsna
where there’s artha, there’s Krsna
where there’s kama, there’s Krsna
where there’s moksha, there’s Krsna
here, there and everywhere,
all i see is Krsna.
yet she says she doesn’t see you,
i wonder why?
dharma: right action
artha: material prosperity
kama: spiritual and physical love
moksha: liberation and enlightenment
is the decision mine or yours? because i’m unsure
bound by your expectation whilst trying to honour my own, its harder than it sounds
i feel the weight in my bones
what do i do?
what do i do, now
with zen calm
the next chess move of whimsical time
li’l does ‘time’ know,
he’s way beyond it.
legacy etched in stone,
this warrior of awareness
marches to his impending destination
steeped in silence.
as his life flashes
in that rear view mirror,
his beatific smile says it all.
i’ve attained nirvana!
for teachers who have paved the path to liberation with silence
why does this world with all its contents
seemingly disappear like sugar in milk,
each time i stand
in front of your sanctum of bliss?
the one, the only
with all you’ve got.....
in his snare of illusion
you’re forever caught
inspired by a triad of melodies from ancient yore
when you hold me tight
on a sapphire night,
twisted under satin sheets
beneath the nonchalant moon
your intent gaze,
cuts through mist of illusion,
gently whispering “detachment”
from a banausic existence
love and pain
swell deep inside my fragile body,
as i sink
into the infinity of spacetime,
where the gravity of your love alone
bends my aching heart
at the confluence
where the rivers
of the past and future merge,
in that tranquil present,
time and i cease to exist.
dissolved like sugar in water,
to be one with
that crescent bearing jewel
who’s ever pure like white jasmine
everywhere i look
your blood laced fingerprints.
everywhere i hear
those tintinnabulating anklets.
everywhere i smell,
the overpowering musky marigolds.
but where are you my black goddess?
when no one in the universe
can match your ravishing beauty,
have you chosen
to hide inside pure dark matter?
for the great goddess who is beyond time and space
nowhere to be seen,
just the occidental’s dream,
all there is, is the now,
my not so shy, oriental dove.
for the sage,
his day is your night.
your perceived reality, his dream,
this universe merely an illusion.
appearing to be real
outside of the mirror,
as though a reflection.
living this indeed
will be your second coming!
imaginary conversation between a sage and a damsel
i’m now a dispatched letter
bearing no postmark to speak of
floating in the winds of ether,
under an autumnal harvest moon
no destination or sender’s address either.
i get to land, only you
and the sand glasses of time will know.
inspired by a beautiful walk on a full moon night
is it me or did i not see
naughty cupid shamelessly flash
his flowery bow and love-dipped arrow
straight at me?
i see her falling eyelash,
to that seductive gaze
which freezes amaranthine ‘time’
down to absolute zero.
by conventions or clocks,
i, the sage smile....
knowing her playful side
and the true nature of whimsical cupid.
modern rendition of the story of shiva and kama-cupid