bubble

I am so terrified of losing you

said one bubble to another
smitten by the lure

of sparkling, rainbow hued emptiness

and the very next moment

dissolved in wine

the agony of their separation

120

Search for the Dark One

search for footprints
look out for laughter
find the Dark One as he plays
his mischievous game
seek out where he hides
waiting to be found
for even his shadow blazes
with a thousand suns

Happy Janmashtami!
~ Rwits
119

Waiting

he turns her to gold
for a few fleeting moments
as he rises from her
to blaze across the sky
and so the river 
flowing darkly through the night
waits for dawn

118

Wither of Age

wither of age
does not sadden 
if only one knew
what the flower knows
that wilting bloom
conceals within it
fruiting of the inner core
dying petals celebrate
birthing of new ravishment
ripening seeds of wisdom speak
of flowing life that never ends.

117

love?

is love a wave
imprisoned in time
which as it rises
must perforce fall ?


a dizzying mountain peak
loftiness inseparably
coupled with drop?


or could it be a bottomless pool
which claims me, forever, for its own
once I drown in moonlit waters?

116

Love and Locks

love of the flowing heart 
and bleeding feet
walks in strange garbs
and when she knocks
we of the cautious intellect
and careful ways
ask a thousand questions
and slam doors shut
locked, in miserable penury
we cannot but cling 
to the desperate hope
that somehow, someday
she will turn her steps back
she will find the way in

115

From the well

in depths of the well
water turned silver
she looked up to see
the moon shining
only for her

114

Sleeping Beauty

her cursed sleep

of a hundred years

awaits the dauntless one

who will cut through 

the forest of fears

and awaken

sleeping love

113

Reductionist Poetry

wrapped in delicate threads of change,  waiting for rainbow wings

5-8-2013

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unsaid weaving through their words_heard in sanctum of hearts

6-8-2013

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unsaid weaving through their words_unseen ripples in placid pools

6-8-2013

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vagrant days of empty pockets, hiding hunger, going nowhere

7-8-2013
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swamping silence_sucks in words_peace gently quivering

8-8-2013
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surging love_breaching banks_wipes away old settlements

9-8-2013
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112

Doing to Being

This is one of my most loved stories ever.

The naked old sadhu sprawls under a tree. Alexander's soldiers come up to him and tell him that he has been summoned by the mighty conqueror. The sadhu refuses to move a limb. The soldiers ask him again, saying Alexander will give him whatever he wishes for. The sadhu nonchalantly says, 'Move, you are blocking the sunlight'. The soldiers, nonplussed, say, 'Come with us or else Alexander will have you killed.' The sadhu, without batting an eyelid, says, 'Go tell your king, he can kill my body but he cannot touch who I really am.'

This story signifies to me the movement from doing to being. The movement from head to heart.The movement from the commotion of the world to stillness within, from seeking riches and self worth outside to seeking and finding them within. The movement begins when one, tired of seeking that ever elusive satiation outside, turns inwards. And then, when one finds  riches which are truly one's own, which can never be taken away, all insecurity ends. One no longer feels compelled to run, to chase things. One is no longer afraid to lose. All fears, all wants end. One still does things but that doing comes from a fullness within. Its no longer the striving, the exhaustion of filling a bottomless pit.

Its the movement to peace. The final homecoming.