A day will come!
A day will come to your doorstep, your bedside,
With an unusual music in the wind,
That day, you will look at the mirror, put up your new cloths,
Even the pair of your new shoes, inviting the rain.
You will come out of your shell, the cocoon, the labyrinth,
With the savage realization of futile indispensability.
At that moment, you will have all those magical moments lost, dancing in the rain-
Not being polite, not being cautious, not being afraid to hurt,
Not being cruel, tormenting, or merciless to yourself,
You will fall like the avalanche, the tempest, the tornado, the hurricane, and the thunder,
True to yourself, as natural as you can!

Looking at the golden moon,
I know how deeply I love you.
No matter how much plastic is in circulation,
How deep,
How intense,
How meaningful,
How silent!

At the dawn,
As the pale moon descends in a blanket of mist,
I know how deeply your love permeates in silence.

Let our souls dance in the ecstasy of the breeze,
Fly high as weightless dry leaves,
Let our soul be feathery light,
And at that moment of pure intoxication,
Like a butterfly frenzied in nectar,
Let us drown in the ocean of delight!

To be a butterfly is a magnificent privilege,
To descend in the magical garden of love,
And be so ephemeral, so transient, so fragile and so beautiful.

‘L’ife
a line drawn in the water,
in the wind, the waves, the clouds, the bubbles,
lines….lines….lines,
circle
a vertical line in the circle
line seeking horizontal passions
a speck of dust at the beginning and at the end
In intense pain, there is infinite hope.

If happiness is our destiny
love our commitment.
Love is not the illusion of space,
As if looking at the mountain peak in mist.
Kindling love is the living life,
The perennial silky melody from the flute of eternity,
Transcending the earth, the waters, the fire and the heaven,
Radiating the souls in love, in bond, and in harmony.
In love, no one is ever gone and far, and no one is lost.

It’s raining incessantly for the last few days
Falling gently in silvery threads
Weaving a silky veil over the grass lands and the forests.
Its dusk, the dim lights of the sun radiating through the trees and the garden,
With occasional flash of brilliance.
A shooting star, in intense light burned out,
The wind is playing with the frenzied areca nut palms in ‘kavadi attam’
On behalf of nature in need of healing.
The thickening mist is in deep love with pitch darkness,
And the peaking rain is intense, thick, percolating deep into the depths of the parched earth.
A sweet fragrance is there all over, no ‘synthetic French’ perfumes could match.
A thunderstorm is in the making and the nature is in ‘Rudra Tandava’.
Yet, the Inexhaustible wonder of the world never ends!
And is worth for a thousand births and rebirths.

Unknown waiting is virulent death unmasked,
In the interludes of hope, impatience and despair,
The aroma of life lost, like vapor in the wind,
The drifting islands far and wide in the ocean of sighs and sorrows,
Till the memories fade,
Till the soul is filled with ashes and the earth,
Wait unending, without hope and despair.
Look, there is a sprout, a kindled fire,
A dark lightning in the unfathomable space,
And the hoots of owls in darkness.
In a speck of dust, a new blade of grass shoots in eternity,
Braving the sun, space and life.
Lend your ears,
A footstep resonates in the distance, near and nearer!
Everything given is ungiven and forgiven.