Skip to main content

Ami



Her little self
is an ocean of amorousness
while she precipitates
an avalanche of giving
in all of the unwinding
trajectories of being

a consciousness of sorts
a serendipitous journey
where she meets the tumultuous path
that intertwines nostalgia, love and lost desires
her presence is pure bliss
who dare not
rise in love?

I see her in a distance
metaphorically
but, stays somewhere
very near
it is undefinable yet true
all of what heart feels and knows
is not always explainable

In my dream
today morning when
the dawn was still yawning
I held her close while I smelled the dew
the nervous and frozen petals of the rose
suddenly were agile,
blooming
the winter morning sun
kissed her cheeks
while I was tempted to do so
her murmurs
broke my dream

She crosses those paths
which a selected few attempt
she is a desire fugitive
she is the smitten universe

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Rise with you

  When the sun stretches its golden arms, and the morning whispers your name, I think of you, steady as the tide, warm as the hearth, a beacon in the quiet storm.   Your laughter, a melody that dances through the chaos, a song I hum when the world grows heavy. Your spirit, unyielding, a tree rooted deep, its branches reaching for the infinite sky.   In your presence, I am more. Not because you fill me, but because you remind me of the light I carry within. You are the mirror that reflects the beauty I often forget.   Together, we are a symphony— not perfect, but alive, each note a testament to the joy of being seen, of being known. You are my safe harbour, my compass in the wild, my friend, my love, my vista   And when the night falls, and the stars blink awake, I will rise with you not above, not below, but besides, always besides, in the quiet grace of this boundless love.   And when the night descen...

Morning Walk

  I was smitten by the silence of the dawn, or perhaps it was the dew that clung to the grass like a secret too fragile to speak. The trees stood tall, their leaves whispering stories of nights spent wrestling the wind, and I thought it was just me but the sparrow, too, carried the weight of its nest, the ant its crumb, the spider its web, each thread trembling with the burden of holding on.   The sun rose, not with a fanfare, but with a quiet insistence, pushing through the haze like a hand reaching for a forgotten name.   A butterfly brushed past, its wings a flicker of pale yellow against the orange sky, and I thought it was just me but the flower, too, had its petals to unfurl, its nectar to offer, its brief, bright moment in the sun.   The path stretched ahead, winding through the shadows and the light, and I thought it was just me but the earth, too, had its cracks to mend, its roots to...

The ballad of hazardous (or blissful) cascades of emotions

  Sometimes the illusion of a happening happens sometimes the emotions roll over sometimes the pathogens of spilled over desire sabotages the pilgrimage of the heart sometimes it is good to divert attention towards the non-attentive nerves sometimes it is okay to be what we are sometimes it is really a exhilaration of the existential to be  in those moments of rapture where time ceases to exist and you and me measure the moment through a deeper turmoil of being alive sometimes it is good to fall sometimes the brain functions paralyzes and the raw nerves get pricked up sometimes we gain our sanity by responding to the deep trance of the emotional and the physical Sometimes we need to paraphrase guilt when love envelopes our being, there is an absence of guilt and presence of something divine, something which cannot be deciphered, defined or  even transferred to someone else's perspective What happened was something that would have happened in a dream Sometimes there is a n...