Thin thoughts
become breezy spectres
drifting through my consciousness
in search of an identity.

Clad in God's light they come,
clad in dark deceit they come,
in many forms they come,
different hues they assume;
they journey through my consciousness
to create my identity.

Through the void of a vacuum
they navigate,
create different realities of my soul.
They belong to different worlds
and no worlds at all.

My thoughts are gypsies;
they're on a marvellous journey
to the heart of a divine mystery!

Beneath the layers of smiles,
deep down,
we hide our real selves.

From lie to lie,
from pretence to pretence,
we camouflage our reality
with the stylish masks we wear,
whilst the monster behind the mask chuckles
hoodwinking a whole generation!

Divine hands
with the dexterity
to disperse a flurry of ethereal fragrances
in one’s soul
take me on a pilgrimage
to the depths of the soul
where I touch the core of my consciousness.

Soul-stirring fragrance of Sandalwood
wafting into my cells
takes me to the depth of
stillness to free my spirit
from the hold of mortality!

Beyond the horizons of my perception,
truth merges with its shadow
to form the stellar dust that settles on my soul’s stillness.

Webs of galaxies dance to a mesmeric melody
rising from the depth of a prismatic dream
that carries the script of my being.

Mystifying strains of awareness permeate my soul,
I become an enigma buried in the mystery of my genesis.

At the crossroads where the gods stroll,
the indigo mist etches the mark of eternity
on my soul's forehead
for me to stroll along with the gods.

How many Springs have visited
this wintery desolation,
painting it gorgeous with its enchanting glory!

How many Spring flowers have mesmerised
this arid wasteland
with its ethereal beauty!

Tell me, why the Spring has not visited me,
why has it not mixed its soothing colours in my dreary dreams?
Why has it not left its splendour
on my parched longings?

A garden I didn’t ask for,
but only a slice of its colour.
A garden I didn’t ask for,
but only a single flower –
to treasure in my mourning soul
the life that Spring brings to
the winter of my frozen dreams.

When the Flamingos return home
with their pink flourish flaring up the horizon,
my shadow grows taller, stranger.

At an untidy pace, it grows,
swifter than my feet,
outsmarting my sanity.

With contours blurred to a hazy oblivion,
a stranger to me I become. I search me
hiding in the shadow of a Chimeric illusion.

My impish shadow plays hide and seek -
long in the morning,
weeny at noon,
weird again in the evening, but
never it leaves me!

When Flamingos return home,
it cruises with the setting sun
across the mystical waters
beneath the earth
to return to me
with the blissful colours
of a new dawn!

Countless generations walked here
ever since humanity dawned on this planet.
Some honoured, but many obscure –
like flowers that bloom in the wilderness
without an eye to adore their beauty!

On the sands of time,
they all left their footprints… but
with their swift sweeps, the sea waves
wiped them to oblivion.

But the grains of sand revere
all the feet that ever kissed them.
With great awe, they treasure in their souls
their footprints, celebrate
humanity’s sojourn on this planet!

You baffle me with your many moods,
your stormy tempers,
your quirky outbursts,
your melancholic whining,
your calming melodies,
your soothing caresses,
the white turbulence that froths at your flustered soul!

Sensual colours of creation shimmer in your depth,
every drop carries the colours of your depth,
in the depth of your soul, you trance in stillness!

Your mystic charm mesmerises me,
I become a vestal drop that celebrates the mystery
that unfolds in your soul’s stillness!

Flowing from a mesmeric flute,
soothing chimes of celestial stillness
stroke every grain of my being to a lullaby.

Like a gentle mist
illuminating a willing landscape to esoteric radiance,
every cell glows to a call from the depth of stillness.

Dust returning to dust
to free the spirit from the hold of mortality
diffusing it to a galactic wonder of thoughtful mystery,
with new wings to migrate to a land
shut to mortals blinded by illusions.

On the wings of the mystical whirlwind
I dance to the call of bliss
that escort me to the heart of its radiance.

I was alone on this journey, I thought
till I realised the road was all along with me
hugging my feet to ease my steps
as I strode homeward.

We travelled together
like two lonely souls who met to become soulmates.

Me and the mystical road, we
kept travelling,
I, oblivious to the home I already reached!

Raindrops...
benign sky showering splendid pearls
on an earth lost to a dreary dryness!

Raindrops...
soothing pats of the pristine heavens
to transform a barren earth.

Flowers dancing in bliss –
birds singing in ecstasy -
trees swaying hilariously –
parched earth soaked in wintry contentment -
my heart going back to a childhood
when raindrops pattering on my icy cheeks
brought the realisation that
I live in the flowers, the birds, the breeze, and the trees, and they in me, to make us a Cosmic whole!

A single flower I asked for -
a keepsake of your mesmeric beauty.
But you gave bunches of bliss
in myriad hues of yellows,
every bough beaming with heaven’s majestic smiles!

Well-crafted suits,
chic, colour-coordinated costumes,
toned bodies, heady perfumes,
affected accent,
modish gadgets,
glib, politically correct talks,
juggled alphabets displayed after names
to show off eruditeness -
a bizarre veneer of sophistication we flaunt!

We wisely disguise our hideous true selves -
our barbarous primitiveness -
under our glistening outwards.
Its greed, its pride, its selfishness,
we shrewdly camouflage with enamouring smiles,
we, a generation of impersonators!

Snug in the trance of your solitude,
you whoosh through the silver clouds
like a Sphene meteorite
lighting up a green fluorescent trail,
while the music in your soul
dance to the phantom glow of the stars
that lullaby you on your numinous path.

You came to roost in the frigid dreams
of a callous winter that haunts my soul,
to paint mysterious charms in my yearnings.

Your eloquent kyowks entrance me -
to fly with you
on your pilgrimage
through the silver clouds
to a land beyond the frostiness of this callous winter.

Beyond the horizon of my perception
thoughts transcend to form
stellar dust that sits
on the galactic centre of my psyche
scribbling the script of my being.

Webs of galaxies
dance to the rhythmic beat of a mystic drummer
escorting me to a prismatic awareness
that flows through the soul,
and I become an enigma
buried in the code of my genesis.

At the crossroads of eternity
I transfigure into the mystic drummer,
wafting to the shores of serenity
on the wings of the Orphic rhythm
of the divine drum beat.