Justice

Justice

I waited for you

and finally you came

the absurd night was spread

on my bed

like broken glass

splintered.

The distant lights of stars

were absurd too,

You had the flowers from

mortuary in your hands,

That night

the unforgivable savagery

was the witness

of our Union.

You said" I did what I had to do,

but I never knew

who you were,

who I was,

In this absurd night

we fumbled for an existence.

But remember :

This night will come to an end

one day,

The flower from mortuary

WILL forgive us

that day and

THY WILL BE DONE."

The Third person

Some wild hyacinth there is

where fire rains,

some limitless pond there is

where only your shadow swims,

some journey there is

where we never see the end,

some bed there is

where the third person

is undefinable,

some word there is

which echoes silently,

some storm there is

which turmoils the mind,

some love there is

which makes you beggar

drops of blood in his bowl.

Wound

Unknown

I burnt my hand,

and some night a liquid

oozes from my wound.

Very ancient vermilion juice like.

You joy fully stick a knife there

sometimes, hoping to see a rainbow,

then fix your gaze on mine and say

" Tell me what are you going to do with me,

Say it .....say ....Say it"

The socket of my eyes are

a little bit more Royal blue,

my left hand trembles more,

My feet unaware of the earth,

The burning bed

grasps the insomniac man

and runs to that mountain

in search of two empty coffee cup

in vain.

Sisyphus

Sisyphus

Your so called some one

is going to give you something

which you hoped

I would give you,

and six hundred million cells

inside you waited and waited.

To day you are a beggar,

a begging bowl in hand

you reach the other

for a SEED broken or rotten.

He would glaze for the gift

he gives you.

And I?

I hide my animal whimper

underneath the stone.

I know I have to carry that stone

over Olympia

like cursed Sisyphus

over and over again.

Neha

Neha.....

A grave digger's hand

rough ....very rough,underneath

the grave

there lies the vermilion soul

of a mistaken poet.

on a glamorous afternoon

the poet held her hand,

the hand was rough, very rough,

but upon the touch

she reached very slowly an ecstatic

unknowable destiny.

She whirled in a fiery flare around

the bleeding heart,

her rose petalled lips parted glistening

eyes closed ,

and she danced and danced

like the distant stars

with geometric predictability.

Now she held his hand

as " Jahanara did,

there ,here , and eternally.

She whispered the song of this

intoxicating earth and the river,

She sighed

" Dont think so much my darling,

Whatever will happen ,will happen"

I shall be with you in the grave

That I shall dig for you.