I woke from a heavy slumber upon being lit again. A mere stub now… That stature and pride of youth gone, but leaving behind like molten wax trickling down my wintry body, the illumination of wisdom that comes with time and a lifetime of service. Would you like to hear a dying light’s flickering words… Continue reading Words of a Melting Candle…
Tag: literature
Tomorrow and today
I tried to find a thought todaySomething... anything at allto make sense of, to entertain, to build into song.Only these empty linesblinked back at me clueless.Whatever happened to that 7-year-old poetess!What does one do, I wondered,in a time so unforeseen as thisTurn to the Guru, it said,always, always.And many voices thenspoke from the heavens n'… Continue reading Tomorrow and today
Ram Naam Satya Hai
When I am laid upon that last bed of woodWhen I am ledto the cremation groundLet some soul remainso long as they chant Your namethat I may still hearthe sweet, sweet sound again
Vermillion: a Priestess’ prayer to the Goddess
At a far distance, the cool night sets. A Purnima. The Goddess in red, out her idol steps...in the abandoned temple.
A Child’s Dream
There was an ocean outside my houseYou could only see it in the morning from the little pane in the cassette room...when the mist and fog became oneLooking out then,I took a dip on a frosty mornas someone played a tuneI recognised years later as Clair de luneThe power was out...perhaps notBut there was light… Continue reading A Child’s Dream
Bhasmā
We sit atop the mountainBreath, one with the icy Himalayan breezepuffing away the pipeSilence, beauty, warmthof each soul one with GodPraying for the salvation of these burning logsNamaḥ Pārvatī Patayé Har Har MahādevAs if Mahéshwarā Himself has come to chant...to dance the destruction dancewe all love
Kaliyuga
Scene: A young, scholarly priest walks past the banks of the holy Ganga, as a pale yellow evening settles. Visibly brooding, he takes no notice of the sights and greetings around him, and makes straight for home, where, laying the plain jute satchel of books atop a wooden desk, he pulls out a loosely bound one and begins to write, just as the early eastern skies begin to darken.
Night-time poesy: Unlatched
No… pray until your heart opens, like a door He quietly unlatched at dawn where every chant, spelled to silence breaks at the throat, to become bird-song... and you let your soul step out
Summit
1 The cave breathes.Its mouth yawns open into a silenceolder than memory-a threshold of bone and shadow. The air drips—and centuries dissolve into mist.Each mineral vein chantshymns no scripture wished revealed. She kneels before the strange fireburning despite everything. The mountain breathes through her chest,the flesh- a boundary no longer certain.She is no longer herself—but… Continue reading Summit
Sea, the woman
What pretty, precious oystered pearls amid buried, bedded bijouterie! She knows of breath beyond deaths, knows of the lost in living lives... Boundless, bottomless, her intelligence. She unmasks… She mystifies…
Ishaisms 
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